i :»':■- -^ v^S$«^MsMk\§Mj^ 







LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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UNITED STATES OF 



AMER] 



ICA. 



Canadian Wild Flewers: 



SELECTIONS FROM THE WRITINGS 



MISS HELEN M. JOHNSON, 

OF MAGOG, P. Q., CANADA, 



A SKETCH OF HER LIFE. 



BY REV. J. M. ORROCK, 
Editob of "Messiah's Herald," Boston, Mass. 



Good thoughts spring from the human mind 
Like tiowers from out the ground : , ,^ 

Attractive, fragrant, beautiful,— 
To make our joys abound. 

, I : 



-- o, 
BOSTON : 
published by j. m. orrock, 
74 kneeland street, 

1S84. 






Ft 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1881, by 

J. M. Orrock, 
in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



J. E. BALLOU, PRINTER, 74 KNEEEAND STREET, BOSTON. 



%XtfMt. 



An observance of the hand of God in his providences, as 
well as of his Spirit in the written Word and in the human 
heart, has led to the publication of this book. Though more 
than twenty years have passed since Miss Jonxsox died, her 
name is like " an ointment poured forth." Many who never 
knew her personally seem to know her well from her poetic 
writings : for "as fragrance to the sense of smell, music to 
the ear, or beauty to the eye, so is poetry to the sensibilities 
of the heart, — it ministers to a want of our intellectual na- 
ture ; this is the secret of its power and the pledge of its per- 
petuity." A lGmo volume of her " Poems " was published in 
Boston, in 1S55, but has long been out of print. In 18G4 the 
Rev. E. H. Dewart published in Montreal a work entitled 
" Selections from Canadian Poets," in which ten of her poems 
were inserted and a very appreciative notice of her given. 
She also wrote for several papers, so that in various ways her 
thoughts have been widely disseminated. A desire has often 
been expressed to have them collected into one volume; but 
to have all thus republished would not be best. I have there- 
fore attempted only what the title indicates — to make selec- 
tions from her writings ; and conclude to send them forth un- 
der a name which she herself chose at a time when she had 
thoughts of getting out a book. Let critics remember that 
they claim to be only " Canadian wild floioers"; yet we feel 



4 PREFACE. 

sure that some of them, for beauty of form and fragrance of 
truth, will not unfavorably compare with some of the culti- 
vated productions of our classic poets. Miss Johnson was 
better known by her poetry than by her prose writings, yet in 
the latter are found so many grand thoughts that I have cop- 
ied from them freely. The biographical sketch, it is hoped, 
will add interest to the book, especially as so many of her 
diary notes have been interwoven. Some of her pieces are 
here printed for the first time. The prize poem on " The 
Surrender of Quebec " is given in full. In the Preface to her 
"Poems" she said : "I have been cheered and encouraged 
by the thought that perhaps through my instrumentality the 
heart of some humble believer might be comforted, and some 
wretched wanderer, weary of the vanities of earth, be directed 
to the only source of life and happiness. Should such be the 
case, the brightest hopes of the authoress will be fulfilled, and 
she herself be amply compensated for her care and labor." 
With a sincere desire to aid in the direction thus indicated 
Ibis little work is now sent forth. 

J. M. O. 
Brookllne, Mass., 
June 22, 1SS4. 



CONTENTS. 



Life-Sketch : 

Birth-place — The Forest (a poem) — Conviction of sin — 
Baptism and Resolutions — Experience — Diary notes in 
verse — Sufferings — Last poem — The One Name and The 
Adieu (poetry)— Death. .... 0-04 



Rural Scenes : 

The Walk in June, . 
An Evening Meditation, 
Nature's Resurrection, 

The Bird's Nest, 

Gather Violets, 

To a Dandelion, 

To a Robin, 

God is There, 

The Canadian Farmer, 

The Return, 

The Old Sugar-Camp, 

To a Rabbit, 

The Old Man, 

The Fading and the Unfading (prose) 

On Receipt of some Wild Flowers, 

The Sick Girl's Dream, 

The Last Song, 

An Evening Scene, 

Autumn Teachings (prose), 

The Watcher, 



37 
4:} 
45 
4(3 
47 
4S 
50 
51 
52 
54 
57 
50 
GO 
02 
02 
03 
05 
66 
08 
09 



CONTENTS. 



Patriotic Poems : 

The Surrender of Quebec, 

Song of the English Peasant Girl, 

A Nation's Desire, 

Canada's Welcome, 

Our Native Land, 

The Appeal, 

I Love the Land where I was Born, 

The World to Come, 

Temperance : 

A Welcome to a Temperance Picnic, 

A Life-Scene — The Letter, 

The Pledge, .... 

Sighs on Mortality : 

What is Your Life ? 

Life, 

The Silent Army, 

The Dying Warrior, 

On Seeing a Skull (prose), 

Thoughts on Death, 

The Battle-Field, 

Dead and Forgot, 

Dear Emily, 

On the Death of a Friend (prose), 

The Heavenly Helper, 

The Promise, 

The Dead Christ (prose), 

The Complaint, 

The Mixed Cup (prose), 

I Shall Depart, 

Time Flies, 

A Voice from the Sick Room (prose), 



71 
S2 
S3 
84 
84 
80 
87 
89 



92 
93 
95 



101 

102 
104 
10G 

107 

108 

111 

112 
114 
115 
116 
US 
120 
120 
122 
122 
124 
125 



CONTEXTS. 



Songs of Hope: 

" lie Giveth Songs in the Night," 

The Last Good Night, .... 

^Retrospective and Prospective (prose), 

Hope, ...... 

Earth Not the Christian's Home, 

" We Sorrow Not as Others Without Hope" (prose) 

The Messenger Bird, .... 

Our Ship is Homeward Bound, 

Midnight, 

Easter Sunday (prose), 

The Risen Redeemer (prose), . 

Dost Thou Remember Me ? 

'"Tis I— Be Not Afraid," 

The Only Perfect One (prose), 

The Dying Christian, 

The Request, 

Complete in Him (prose), 

Trust in God, 

A Parados (prose), ..... 

" Thou Shalt Know Hereafter," 

Thine Eyes Shall See the King in His Beauty (prose), 

All Is Well, . . 

We Shall Meet, ...... 

What the Daughter of the Cloud Said (prose), . 
This is not Home, ..... 

The Soul's Consolation (prose), 

" We See through a Glass Darkly," 

Words of Cheer for Fainting Christians (prose), 

Miscellany : 

The Dying Year, ..... 
Incomprehensibility of God, 

The Star of Bethlehem, .... 
God Made Me Poor, .... 



130 
131 
132 
132 
133 
13G 
137 
138 
140 
141 
142 
143 
144 
145 
140 
147 
14S 
149 
150 
151 
152 
153 
154 
155 
150 
157 
15$ 
159 



102 
102 
103 
104 



8 CONTEXTS. 






PAGE. 


The Stranger Guest, .... 


1G5 


A Long, Delightful Walk (prose), 


. 1GG 


" The Servant is Not Above his Master," 


1G7 


Elijah, ...... 


. 169 


The Sacred Page, .... 


171 


Behold how He Loved Us, .... 


. 172 


Love Your Enemies, .... 


174 


The Orphan, ..... 


. 175 


Sententious Paragraphs (prose), 


178 


"Ye Did It Not to Me," .... 


. 179 


Hear and Help Me, .... 


ISO 


Farewell, ...... 


. 181 


No Mother, ..... 


182 


To a Mother on the Death of her Child, 


. 183 


In Goodness is True Greatness, 


184 


Similes (prose), ..... 


185 


The Crucified of Galilee, 


1S7 


The Ascension, ..... 


. 1SS 


The Hebrew's Lament, 


190 


When Shall I Receive my Diploma ? (prose), 


. 191 


Alone with Jesus, .... 


192 


The Lost Babe, ..... 


. 104 


The Day of Wrath, .... 


195 


The Believer's Safety (prose), 


. 197 



T\U $Mth. 



I \rt HE hill country of Judea, which furnished a home 
c|4 for, the virgin mother of our Lord, is not the only 
*lQl rural region from whence have come women en- 

* dowed with intelligence and integrity, philan- 
thropy and religion, who by pen and tongue have 
brightened and blest the hearts and homes of thou- 
sands. Nurtured amidst the wilds of nature, instead 
of the bustle and bewildering attractions of city life, 
fchey have grown strong to do battle for the right and 
to bear testimony to the truth as it is in Jesus. Of 
this class is the one whoso life and labors we are now 
to consider. 

Memphremagog is an enchanting lake, two-thirds 
of which lie in the Eastern Townships of Canada, in 
the Province of Quebec, and the upper third in Ver- 
mont. Its extreme length from north to south is 
about thirty miles, its breadth varying from one to 
three miles. It is semi-circular in form and bestud- 
ded with islands ; while on its western shore rise 
mountains of no ordinary attractions, among them 
Owl's Head, which towers about 2,500 feet above the 
surface of the lake, affording from its summit a pano- 
ramic view of surpassing loveliness. It was at ■" The 
Outlet " of this lake there was born, Oct. 27, 1834, 
Helex Mar, the youngest daughter of Abel B. and 



10 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

Polly Johnson ; and there she spent — with the ex- 
ception of the time devoted to attending or teaching 
school — almost her entire life. Of cities she knew 
nothing by experience ; but as her reading was exten- 
sive she knew much of the world by mental surveys. 
The book of Nature was her delight. Its illustra- 
tions of stones and streams, lakes and rivers, moun- 
tains and forests, birds and flowers, were ever attract- 
ive to her. At an early age she began to exhibit rare 
poetic talent. Of " a number of short pieces, written 
between the ages of twelve and fifteen years," the 
following, entitled " The Forest," has been preserved. 
It appeared in the Stanstead Journal — a paper to 
which she afterwards frequently contributed. It was 
probably the first article she ever had printed. 

" Let others seek sweet friendship's voice 

When grief the spirit bends, 
Let them find solace in the tones 

Of their beloved friends; 
But oh ! when sorrow o'er me broods, 
Give me the dark, the dark green woods. 

" When pleasure lights the sparkling eye, 

And swells with rapture proud, 
Let others spend their joyous mirth 

Within the giddy crowd; 
But when o'er me no clouds are seen, 
Give me the forest, dark and green. 

" When pure devotion fills the heart, 
And breathes a yearning prayer, 

Let others wander to the church 
And pay their tribute there: 

Bat if o'er me such feelings steal, 

In the dark forest let me kneel. 

" When death comes o'er the pallid brow 
To number with the dead, 



LIFE-SKETCH. 11 

Let others choose some lovely grave, 

Where tears will oft be shed ; 
But let me, let me find a tomb 
Deep in the forest's darkening gloom." 

Her life was not one of thrilling adventure, hair- 
breadth escapes, and deeds securing worldly applause, 
but quiet, unobtrusive and useful. Her constitution 
was naturally weak — her brain too active for her body, 
and as a consequence much mental and physical suf- 
fering was her portion. To her studies — French, 
Latin and drawing, besides the English branches — 
she was very devoted. Nothing pleased her better 
than to be alone with books, pen and pencil, or to 
wander forth in garden or field. Being of a very 
bashful and retiring disposition she felt alone even in 
company. Her diary leaves give evidence of this. 
Under date of June 19, 1852, for example, she writes : 

" How lonely I feel to-day ! and my rebellious 
heart will repeat the question, Why was I created 
thus ? I stand alone, and why ? 1 know it is my 
own self that makes me so ; but how can I make my- 
self otherwise ? I have tried very, very hard to over- 
come my — Avhat shall I call it ? bashfulness ? It 
seems as though it could not be wholly that. I have 
seen those the world called bashful, but they were not 
at all like myself. Oh, no ; I am wretched at times 

on account of this . When I see myself all alone 

— different from those around me — I cannot stay the 
burning tear though I would gladly repress it. I 
cannot soothe the anguish that fills my heart, and yet 
I feel that this is wrong, — that it ought not to be 
thus. Why should I feel so keenly that I am alone ? 
that I am strange ? Earthly scenes will soon be over, 



12 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

and if I am only a Christian I shall never feel alone 
in heaven. Oh, glorious thought ! there will be no 
strange being there. God, prepare me for that 
blissful world and I will no longer complain of my 
loneliness on earth — no longer sigh that I am not like 
others." 

At this time Miss Johnson was not a professed 
Christian. Her parents had endeavored to bring her 
up in the fear of the Lord and a belief of the gospel, 
and to attend the services of the sanctuary. Her life 
had been one of strict morality. She believed in God 
but had not taken Christ as her own ■personal Saviour 
and confessed him before men as she felt she should. 
Her conviction of sin however was deep and pungent. 
On another day in the same month, she says : — 

"0 Earth, thou art a lovely place, and some of thy 
inhabitants are as lovely and happy as thyself. See 
that beautiful bird, with shining plumage and bril- 
liant crest, and hear the melodious notes that arise 
from its silvery throat ! Its form proclaims beauty, 
and its song happiness. See those snow-white lambs 
skipping over the verdant grass, — now nestling sport- 
ively beside their bleating mothers, then springing 
forward, bounding from knoll to knoll, and filling the 
air with strains of joy and delight ! See yonder but- 
terfly weighing itself upon that brilliant flower : Ins 
gorgeous wings are expanded and glittering in the sun 
like sparkling gems ! See those bright-eyed children ! 
their glowing cheeks, their beaming eyes, and above 
all their clear and merry laugh proclaiming happiness 
pure and unbounded. Earth is truly lovely, but its 
inhabitants are not all happy. Oh no, not all, for one 
who loves the beauties of earth, rejoices in the loveli- 



LIFE-SKETCH. 13 

ness of nature, and finds her chief pleasures in the 
spreading grove, by the babbling brook, among the 
brilliant flowers, is sad and unhappy. And why? 
Because she has learned too soon that there is no such 
thing as [real and abiding] happiness on earth, that 
the fairest plants wither, that pleasure is a deceitful 
phantom— false and fleeting. Truly she has learned 
all this, and will she never learn to raise her eyes to 
that bright world where true happiness only resides, 
and to trust meekly in Him who is the only Dispenser 
of peace and joy ? " 

Later we have another entry in which, after again 
referring to the beauties of nature, she exclaims : 

" life, life ! I fain would read thy mysteries : I fain 
would draw aside every vail and behold for what pur- 
pose I was created. Was it to be au heir of sorrow ? 
was it to live for myself alone, and then pass away 
and let my memory perish with me ? No, I was born 
for a better — a higher and more holy purpose. I was 
not born to pass a few moments on the stage of life 

and then disappear forever With a shudder I 

turn away and would gladly forget to think. 
thought, thought ! thou wilt distract me,— thou hast 
almost hurled reason from her throne. Thou bitter 
tormentor ! depart, if but for a moment, and let me 
once more find peace. But no ; the more I seek to 
elude still nearer the demon pursues. thought, 
thought ! it rushes forth from my soul like the wild 
outpourings of the volcanic mountains and overwhelms 
me with its burning tide till body, mind and soul — 
all, all are exhausted and lie like a straw upon the ■ 
roaring bosom of the deep. Oh, that I could arise, 
mingle with the gay, and forget my own deep and 
overpowering thoughts. But no ; such thoughts, like 
the soul which gave them birth, can never die. 0' 



14 CANADIAN" WILD FLOWERS. 

thought, what art thou ? A blessing to angels, a 
curse to me. Distracted soul, sink into repose. : others 
are happy, and wast thou born to be more wretched 
than they ? Truly thou wast, and why ? Because 
thou livest only in the regions of thought — thought 
which is burning my brain and piercing my lacerated 
heart. And yet a thought freighted with light beams 
through the dark clouds which its darker sisters have 
thrown around me, and the only inscription which it 
bears is, ' Live for others? And another thought fol- 
lows in rapid succession, — like a far-off echo it repeats 
the words of its predecessor, ' Live for others, 5 and 
then adds (while a vivid flash of the lightning of 
truth lights up the darkness of error), ' Live for God 
and for heaven.' A loud crash follows. Teals of 
thunder shake the atmosphere of my soul ! Self has 
fallen: I will Vive for others, for God and for heaven." 

This was a grand resolve ; but not yet was the soul 
to be out of prison, the pilgrim to be freed from the 
Slough of Despond. Once more she has to write : — 

"Everything is beautiful, and all nature is glad and 
rejoicing. Arise, my soul, and be thou glad likewise. 
Cast off thy gloomy fears. The God who made all 
the beautiful things by which thou art surrounded is 
not unmindful of thee. Oh, wondrous condescension ! 
God is not forgetful of me. He gazes upon me with 
an eye of compassion; he pities my distress and my 
weakness. Amazing love ! Oh, that I were more wor- 
thy of it; Oh, that I loved him as fervently as I ought! 
But my heart is callous, and I am nothing but a poor, 
cold, vile and helpless sinner : nothing but sin dwells 
in my heart. It is the seat of every vice, every evil 
thought, and every depraved -passion. [Jer. 17 : 9, 
10 ; Mark 7 : 21-23]. Dark and gloomy clouds en- 
velope my soul. A weight of sorrow presses upon 



LIFE-SKETCH. 15 

my heart, and I vainly strive to free myself from its 
influence. Everything looks dark. ' My God, my 
God, why hast thou forsaken me ? why art thou so 
far from helping me ? ' ' How long wilt thou forget 
me, Lord ? forever ? How long wilt thou hide thy 
face from me ? ' ' Mine iniquities are gone over my 
head : as a heavy burden they are too heavy for me. 
Lord, all my desire is before thee ; and my groaning 
is not hid from thee. Make haste to help me.' ' My 
soul fainteth for thy salvation, but I hope in thy 
word.' my God, hear my erv, and answer my peti- 
tion." 

" Tuesday, June 29, 1852. The sultry fires of the 
day have yielded to the cool breezes of evening. A 
misty cloud hangs over the once azure sky, and the 
deep, heavy roar of thunder shakes the quiet air. 
Nearer and nearer still it rolls its deep-toned voice, 
and all nature seems to reply. The vivid lightnings 
flash. The fountains on high are opened, and the 
rain pours down in torrents. Wilder grows the 
storm: the winds are released from their 'prison- 
cave,' and armed with fury they rush madly forth ; 
brighter the lightnings glare, louder the thunders 
roar. The whole fabric of nature seems in commo- 
tion ! Oh, who can gaze upon such a scene without 
emotions of awe, wonder and admiration ? Surely 
such an one must possess a stony heart and a cold 
nature. There is beauty for me in the lightning's 
glare — there is music in the thunder's peal ! God 
grant that there may be beauty and glory for me in 
the day when the thundering notes of the last trum- 
pet shall shake the heavens and awaken the sleeping 
dead, — when 'the elements shall melt with fervent 
heat,' and every sovd of every tribe, and tongue and 
nation shall stand before the judgment-seat to receive 
their final doom ! grant that the Judge may be my 



1(5 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

friend, and that I — the poorest, the lowest, the vilest 
of sinners — may find a seat at his right hand ; and 
the vaults of heaven shall forever ring with the 
praises of a redeemed sinner, saved only through the 
grace and blood of the crucified .Saviour." 

But the hour was at hand when there was to come 
such relief to the troubled soul as it had never before 
experienced, — when the divine Comforter was to take 
of the things of Christ and reveal them to the lonmiiG: 
heart, — and this maiden avow herself before the world 
a disciple of Christ. How was this to be effected ? 

Sunday, July 25, I had an appointment to preach 
in Magog, and after the forenoon service expected to 
baptize a young lady who had been a schoolmate of 
Miss Johnson. In view of that arrangement I urged 
that they should both go together in the ordinance, 
but could get no encouragement that it would be so. 
We went to the church, where I preached from Col. 
3 : 1-4, and after sermon announced the hymn, — 

" Gracious Lord, incline thine ear, 
My request vouchsafe to hear; 
Burdened with my sins, I cry, 
Give me Christ, or else I die. 



Father, thou hast given thy Son, 
Bruised for sins that I have done ; 
To that refuge now I fly ; 
Christ is mine — I shall not die." 

The effect and what followed I will allow her to relate 
in her own words : — 



LIFE-SKETCH. 17 

" Oh, the agonj/ and the perfect peace that I have 
this day enjoyed ! The agony in the morning was 
almost insupportable. It seemed then utterly impos- 
sible for me to take up so heavy a cross as to follow 
my Saviour in the ordinance of baptism. The very 
thought was dreadful, and yet I knew that it was my 
duty. I felt that the anger of God would be kindled 
against me, — that his Holy Spirit would not always 
strive with me. I threw myself upon my knees ; but 
could find no peace there as long as I continued 
proudly obstinate. I started from my knees and 
seized 'the holy Book of God'; but there was nothing 
there to comfort me. I paced the room hurriedly, at 
every step exclaiming, 'What shall I do?' and yet 
I knew what to do, but would not do it. Thus the 
morning passed away, and trembling with emotion I 
entered the house of God. The sermon seemed de- 
signed expressly for me. At its close I grew more 
agitated. The last hymn was read, and after singing 
we were to repair to the water, where one happy 
being was to follow her blessed Saviour into a 
watery grave. Oh, I shall never forget that hymn, — 
never, no never. The closing line of each verse 
seemed as an echo from my own heart, 'Give me 
Christ or else I die '; but as the last line of the last 
verse fell upon my ear — ' Christ is mine. I shall not 
die," — I think that then I did truly feel determined 
to come boldly forth and claim the precious promises 
of God as my own. 

"We sought the water's side, when Josephine 
asked me in a trembling voice if I would be baptized. 
I thought she expected an answer in the negative — 
at least I knew that she might reasonably expect it, 
for I had told her plainly in the morning that I could 
not. My heart was too full to speak : I only bowed 
my head in token of assent. I shall never forget the 



18 CANADIAN WILD FL0WEKS. 

look of joy that beamed in her countenance, nor the 
emotions that filled my own bosom. I saw Eliza en- 
ter the water. Oh, glorious sight ! I never saw, 
never imagined so beautiful a scene. Every fear van- 
ished, every cloud withdrew from my soul, and I 
longed to enter the waving flood. my Saviour ! I 
did not enter it alone. Surely it was nothing short 
of the almighty arm of God that supported me then. 
I never in all my life had so little fear of man : I had 
no fear then. Truly it was a foretaste of heaven. 
Oh, happy, thrice happy moment ! it was worth a 
whole lifetime of sorrow. If I could always feel as I 
did then my heart would never again be bowed down 
with grief: but that very afternoon Satan began to 
whisper: 'You will not live up to your profession; 
you have deceived yourself and others ; you are still 
a wicked creature ; you are not a Christian '; and yet 
by the grace of God I was able, in some degree at 
least, to resist him. 

" When I partook of the Lord's supper I felt a rep- 
etition of the happiness I had while obeying the com- 
mand of my Saviour and following him into a watery 
grave. How vividly the last supper which Christ 
partook of with his disciples presented itself to my 
mind ! and then I looked forward with joyful hope to 
the day when all the saints of God shall eat bread in 
his glorious kingdom, — when all of every age and 
clime shall be gathered around the table, and Jesus 
Christ himself be in their midst. It was a soul-in- 
spiring thought, and for all the wealth of a thousand 
worlds like this I would not have been absent from 
that communion — from which I had so often absented 
myself. Yes ; I had never before partaken of the 
Lord's supper ; and it was my own wicked heart which 
had kept me away, for God had called loudly upon 
me, and his Holy Spirit had again and again striven 



LIFE-SKETCH. 19 

with me. Oh, what a sinner I have been, and what a 
long-suffering God! I wonder that he did not cast 
me- off forever. Oh, what mercy! 'Bless the Lord, 
my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy 
name. Bless the Lord, my soul, and forget not all 
his benefits.' And now, have I forsaken all for 
Christ? Have I thrown myself— body, soul and 
spirit— upon the altar ? I do want to sacrifice every- 
thing for Christ, and by the grace of God I will per- 
form the following : — 

" 1. When my duty appears plain I will do it, what- 
ever may be the consequences. 

"2. I will never be ashamed to confess Christ be- 
fore the world. 

"3. I will consecrate my talents entirely to the 
Lord. 

"4. I will never employ my pen in writing any- 
thing which I might regret at the bar of God. 

"5. I will never permit any one of my composi- 
tions to be printed unless I can in sincerity ask the 
blessing of God to attend it. 

" 6. As I shall be brought into judgment for every 
idle word I say, I will endeavor never to engage in 
trifling conversation, but on every proper occasion to 
speak of the wondrous grace of God. 

"7. I will, whenever a good opportunity occurs, 
warn my young companions to flee from the wrath to 
come. 

"8. I will strive to set my affections on things 
above, not on things on the earth. 

"9. By the assistance of the Holy Spirit I will en- 
deavor to keep evil thoughts out of my heart, and to 
meditate upon the law of God. 

" 10. I will never pass a day without seeking some 
secret place at least twice a day, and pouring out my 
soul in prayer to God. 



20 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

"11. I will study the Holy Scriptures, and en- 
deavor to understand what I read. 

" 12. I will try to do all I can. 

" God, assist ine to perform what I have written 
in thy fear and to thy glory. I am perfect weakness : 
but ' thou knowest my frame, thou rememberest that 
I am dust.' I know thou art merciful ; Oh, give me 
a more exalted faith.. Help me to come boldly for- 
ward and claim thy promises as mine. Humble my 
pride; keep me at thy feet ; let not the temptations 
of Satan overcome me, but may I trust myself in 
thine arms. May I love thee fervently, above every- 
thing else — better far than my own life. I can do 
nothing unless thou dost assist me. Oh, support me, 
and save me at last in thy kingdom, for Christ's 
sake." 

In the evening of that ever memorable Sabbath she 
offered aloud a few words of prayer at the family 
altar, and next day (as she was then teaching) had 
prayer in her school: thus she "confessed with the 
mouth the Lord Jesus "while in her heart she be- 
lieved that God had raised him from the dead (Bom. 
10 : 9). Immediately after the Son of God himself 
was baptized, he was in the wilderness "templed of 
the devil "j it need not be thought strange therefore 
if his follower;; soon after their baptism are also 
grievously assaulted by the same adversary. This 
young Christian did not escape him entirely; yet 
from that day until her death, though conscious of 
much weakness and imperfection, having many dark 
days and great sufferings, she never renounced her 
allegiance to the King of kings, who had bought her 



LIFE-SKETCH. 21 

with his blood. A few more selections from her 
diary will show the working of her mind about this 
time. 

" Aug. 7. A calm and quiet morning. A soothing 
calm steals over my soul. Faith, with triumphant 
wing, rises far above the scenes of earth and points 
to that glorious world where Christ pleads for mo be- 
fore the throne of his Father. The doubts which 
have so long filled my heart are sinful and dishonor- 
ing to God, and I will no longer give place to them : 
I will look away from myself — from my sins — to the 
holy Lamb of God. I will trust wholly in him" and 
in his merits alone for acceptance." 

" Sunday, Aug. 8. What I have done to-day would 
once have seemed impossible, the cross that I have 
taken up would have seemed almost insupportable. I 
could not have believed the last time I attended the 
prayer-meeting that at the next one I should si and up 
as a witness for Christ. But thank Cod! my proud 
heart has in some degree been humbled, and the dear- 
est hope I now cherish is, that Christ may not be 
ashamed to confess me before his Father and all the 
holy angels." 

"Aug. 22. While standing this evening by the 
grave of one dearly beloved in life, and cherished more 
fondly now that death has taken her from my embrace, 
I could not stay the soaring flight of fancy, which 
would portray to my mind in vivid colors our meet- 
ing at the great Resurrection morn ; and the thought 
that that meeting was so near — that in a very little 
while the grave should lose its power and that she 
would come forth robed in immortal beauty, filled my 
soul with transport and almost brought to my lips the 
yearning cry, ' Come, Lord Jesus, and come quickly.' " 

On the 27th of August Miss Johnson' closed her 



22 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

school, and after spending a few weeks at home went 
■to the academy at Derby Centre, Vt. Under dote of 
"Wednesday, Oct. 26," we have this entry in her 
journal : — 

"Attended the exercises to-night and read a com- 
position. They could not have liked it, for it was 
upon a subject which must be disagreeable to the 
world ; and yet it is the subject nearest my heart — 
one that I love to dwell upon and to hear about : the 
coming of my blessed Saviour. When will the glori- 
ous morn appear ! Loud and repeated cheers were 

given when Miss read her composition. Well, 

it was good ; such as would suit the world, but not 
me — strange being that I am. But I shall not always 
be so : in heaven I shall not be a stranger. There I 
can converse with the saints dearly-beloved : for their 
conversation will be on the things of God; and my 
Saviour himself will deign to address me there ! 
Why should I not then long, aye long to obtain that 
blissful state ? And yet I sometimes fear that I shall 
fall far short of it, for I am so vile and polluted." 

The "composition" referred to we do not find 
among her papers ; but much that she has written 
shows that she was indeed deeply interested in "that 
blessed hope" (Tit. 2 : 13). She was a decided pre- 
millennialist, and stood identified in her church-mem- 
bership with the Evangelical Adventists. On com- 
pleting her eighteenth year (Oct. 27, 1852), she said: — 

" This evening, while looking back through all the 
events of my life, what is there that rejoices me 
most ? It is one that the past year has brought forth, 
— one that will ever be remembered with deep and 
powerful emotions : the day that consecrated me to 



LIFE-SKETCH. 28 

the Lord, when I breathed forth with a fervent heart, 
' Give me Christ, or else I die,' and I was enabled to 
take up my cross and follow my Saviour in baptism." 

Here there is no regret expressed for the step she 
had taken, nor did she ever feel any, though she 
greatly deplored her weakness and unprofitableness 
in the Lord's service. And why not ? Listen to 
her, under date of June 13, 1853 : — 

" How sweet, when the soul has no earthly support, 
to fly to the Rock of Ages ! The Saviour is precious 
to the heart of the pardoned sinner. There is noth- 
ing like the love of Jesus. He is not like other 
friends — oftentimes wearied by our complaints and 
the repetition of our sorrows, but is always longsuffer- 
ing and delighting to hear and answer every cry of the 
burdened spirit ; smiling ever in the darkest of afflic- 
tions, and forever dropping the balm of consolation 
into the distracted breast. Oh, what a privilege to 
have such a friend — such a sure and steadfast friend 
— such a wise and omnipotent friend. And he is my 
friend ? Yes ; he is ' the sinner 's Friend,' and there- 
fore mine : for surely nothing but wondrous love 
could have led him to die a cruel and ignominious 
death for me, polluted as I am. Jesus, thou art my 
friend and I will be thy friend ; thou didst love me 
first and I do love thee, but not as fervently as I 
should, nor so much as I desire. God, give me 
more of thy Holy Spirit ; may it consume every unhal- 
lowed passion, tear every idol from my heart, and con- 
secrate that heart entirely to thee." 

The only journal notes of considerable length which 
Miss Johnson seems to have made were for the years 
1852 and 1853. Those for 1855 and 18G0 were 



24 CAXADIAK WILD FL0WE11S. 

entered in a " daily miniature diary." We find none 
for other years, though she always kept her pen and 
pencil busy in some way as long as she had strength 
to write. The diary for 1855 is in rhyme — usually 
six lines being allotted to each clay. While some of 
the verses are playful and witty, most of them are 
religious and plaintive. The following are giveD as 
specimens : 

" Arose at six o'clock today: 
How swift the moments sped away 

Engaged in household duties; 
Then Virgil claimed awhile my care, 
And Pope of time a larger share, 

With all his sweets and beauties." 

" Mr. Goodenough and wife 

Came here yesterday; 
Through the changing scenes of life 

Onward be their way; 
And never may their path be rough 
So long as they are Good-enough." 

" Received of Robinson to-day 
For my ' Address ' a little pay: 
The first of cash I ever bad 
For writing verses, good or bad. 
O Lord, whate'er my gains may be 
The tenth I dedicate to thee." 

" I would not seek the haunts of mirth, 
For in the gayest scenes of earth 

Are hovering grief and care; 
But oft I find a soothing power, 
At twilight's calm and peaceful hour, 

In secret prayer." 

" Jesus, oh, precious name! 
How sweet it sounds to me; 
Come want, come grief, come death or shame 
I'll cling, my Lord, to thee." 



LIFE-SKETCH. 25 

" I'd rather be distressed with doubts 

And find no sweet release, 
Than be content to settle down 

In false repose and peace; 
But. ah ! I wish I knew ray name 
In the Lamb's book a place could claim." 

" While here distressed I lie, 

What joy my heart doth thrill 
At the enchanting thought, 
That Jesus loves me still!" 

" Sweet Sabbath morn! to me it brings, 
As if on angel's airy wings, 

Visions of peace and rest: 
I seem to stand upon the plains 
Where an eternal Sabbath reigns, 

And dwell the pure and blest. 

" I wept — when lo, my heart to cheer 

J sobbing whispered in my ear: 

' Dont cry, for I will serve the Lord ;' 
How sweet the sound! what great reward." 

[Psa. 126 : 5, 6]. 

" How little comfort have I known 
In this dark vale of tears! 
For Sorrow marked me for her own 

In childhood's early years. 
And ever since, by night and day, 
Has hovered round my lonely way." 

*' 'Twas nearly two — but sleep had fled 
My pillow for the night ; 
I rose — but all was dark around, 

And I could find no light: 
And then I knelt and prayed for those 
Who, like me, found no sweet repose." 

" Sick, sick, sick, 

And gloomy all the day; 
Sick, sick, sick, 
Thus life wears away." 



26 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

" Murmur not, my troubled soul, 
At thy Father's dealings; 
Wild the billows round thee roll: 

Yield not to the feelings 
Of despair that gather round : 
Troubles rise not from the ground." 

[Job 5 : 6-8]. 

" How many souls around the throne 

Once suffered here like me, — 
Like me discouraged, tempted, tried, 

But now for ever free : 
They shout their griefs and trials o'er; 
Then let me fear and doubt no more." 

" At home all day; I cannot pray, 
Can neither read nor think: 
O God, I cry; the waves roll high, 
Support me or I sink." 

" Did I murmur that the rod 
Was so heavy, O my God? 
I forgot the cursed tree, 
I forgot Gethsemane, 
I forgot the grief and pain — 
May I ne'er forget again." 

" Unworthy, wretched as I am 
I hope for mercv through the Lamb: 
His name, his glorious name prevails 
When every other passport fails; 
It opens Heaven's eternal gate; 
Then, doubting soul, why longer wait? " 

" Sabbath after Sabbath comes; 

When will dawn the endless day? 
Swiftly roll the wheels of time, 

Swiftly pass the hours away; 
Brighter and brighter from afar 
View we now ' the Morning Star.' " 

" And we, alas! are called to part: 
1 Farewell ' is said, with aching heart; 
But God will watch o'er thee [ ween, 



LIFE-SKETCH. 27 

And guide thee through each trying scene, 
My dearest sister Josephine! " 

" The glorious sun 

His race has run, 
And sweetly sought repose : 

O that for me 

This life might he 
As bright — as calm its close! " 

" What an awful peal of thunder! 
O my soul, be still and wonder; 
Yet another, and another — 
Eacli one louder than the other; 
God of heaven, I see thy power, 
May I feel it hour by hour." 

** A thousand twinkling stars to-night 
Look down with soft and silvery light 
And tell the majesty divine 
Of Him who gives them leave to shine. 
Oh, what an atom must I be, 
And yet He loves and cares for me! " 

" The wheels of Time — how swift they roll! 
Dost thou consider, O my soul, 
That it shall soon be said to thee: 
' Time was, but time no more shall be ' ? 
Then seize upon the present hour; 
Improve it to thy utmost power." 

In the fall of 1856 Miss Johnson was prostrated 
by disease, and nearly all the time afterwards con- 
fined to the house. So numerous and complicated 
were her difficulties as to baffle the skill of all the 
physicians who saw her, and no one knows the amount 
of suffering she endured. Her mind however was 
active and vigorous, and though there were seasons — 
sometimes quite protracted — when to her the heavens 
above seemed as brass and the earth iron, yet God did 



28 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

not forsake her : the sunshine succeeded the storm, 
and the peace that Jesus gives was poured into her 
wounded heart. Referring to her afflictions in 1858 
and the two following years she writes : — 

" Those were days and nights of anguish, but I now 
look back to them with feelings of regret, for my feet 
had only touched the dark waters and my lips had 
only tasted the cup from which I Avas to drink the 
very dregs. Early in the spring of 1858 I was seized 
with fever and acute inflammation of the stomach, 
which brought me to the verge of the grave. I could 
feel the warm tears of beloved ones upon my cheeks, 
as they bent tenderly over me ; I could see the dark 
vale just ahead (though there was a light amid the 
darkness), but my sufferings were not to be so soon 
terminated. Gradually my disease assumed a chronic 
form, and physicians said there was no hope. The lit- 
tle nourishment I could take distressed me so terribly 
that the very thought of eating made me shudder, and 
my stomach became so sore that I could not be moved 
from one side of the bed to the other without utter- 
ing a cry of pain. Winter, spring, summer and 
autumn in turn visited the earth, and with each I 
thought, aye, longed to depart ; but the great Eefiner 
had his own purpose to accomplish, — there was a lit- 
tle fine gold but the dross rendered it useless. The 
ordeal through which I am passing is indeed a terri- 
ble one, but I know where peace and consolation are 
to be found, and there are times when I can say in 
sincerity, ( Thy will be done.' " 

Thursday, Jan. 1, 1863, she wrote : — 

"Bright, beautiful day. Many people on the ice. 
Edwin [her brother] there. Over our dwelling is a 
shadow ; it falls upon our spirits and we are sad. 



LIFE-SKETCH. 29 

Will it never be removed ? God grant we may be 
patient and grateful for the blessings we do enjoy, 
for are not friends — true, tender friends, the greatest 
and holiest of blessings ? and while we have them 
God forgive us for murmuring at his dealings." 

The last entries in her diary are : " Feb. 2. Very 
sick " ; " Tuesday, 3rd. No better." It is uncertain 
when the following lines were written, but it might 
have been about this time : — 

" I'm going home to that bright land of rest 
Where pain and grief and sickness are unknown; 
The year begins in sorrow, but will close 
In joys that never end — I'm going home! 
Last year the warning came on sunken eye 
And wasted cheek. I gazed and thought to spend 
My Christmas with the angels. God knows best; 
And here I linger, weary sufferer still. 
The morning comes long watched-for, long desired; 
The day drags on, and then the sleepless night: 
But this will have an end — it must be soon." 

About six weeks before her death she was taken 
with nausea and vomiting : everything she took dis- 
tressed her, and for the last twenty-three days she 
took no nourishment save what water contains. Her 
prayer — 

" Close to the Cross, close to the Cross, God grant I may be 

found 
When death shall call my spirit hence, or the last trumpet 

sound," — 

was indeed answered. Her end was very peaceful 
and happy. For several weeks not a cloud seemed to 
pass over her mind; and though often in great dis- 
tress there was no impatience manifested, nor did a 
murmur escape her lips. She said, " It is nothing to 



30 CANADIAN" WILD FLOWERS. 

die : ( the sting of death is sin/ and when sin is taken 
away the sting is gone." On another occasion she 
remarked : " I have often heard the words sung — 

' Jesus can make a dying bed 
Feel soft as downy pillows are. ' — 

and thought they were not strictly true ; but now 
I know that they are perfectly, perfectly so." Once 
as we stood by her bedside she observed her moth- 
er and sister weeping, and with a countenance beam- 
ing with joy (sufficient to remind us of 1 Pet. 1 : 8) 
she expressed surprise, remarking : " It seems to 
me I am only crossing a narrow brook, and as I 
look back I see you all coming — we shall soon meet." 
Her view of her own weakness and sinfulness was 
indeed clear, but she had such unwavering faith in 
her Redeemer as enabled her to say : " Dying seems 
to me like laying the head back and closing the eyes, 
just to open them in a few moments on the joys of 
paradise." The following lines, written with a pencil 
on the cover and blank leaf of her French Testament, 
were the last she ever wrote. They are dated March 
3 — just ten days before her death — and give indubita- 
ble evidence of the clearness of her intellect and 
the strength of her faith while passing through " the 
valley of the shadow of death " : — 

" Jesus, I know tliou art the living Word! 
Each blessed promise to myself I take; 
I would not doubt, if I had only heard 
This — this alone, ' I never will forsake! ' 

I have no fear — the sting of death is sin, 
And Christ removed it when he died for ine: 



LIFE-SKETCH. 31 

Washed in his blood, my robe without, within, 
Has not a stain that God himself can see. 

Wrapped in the Saviour's arms I sweetly lie; 

Far, far behind I hear the breakers roar; 
I have been dying — but I cease to die, 

My rest begins — rejoice forevermore! " 

Having expressed a wish to be visited by all her 
acquaintances, many called to see her, with whom she 
conversed freely on the interests of their soul. With 
great composure she made arrangements for her 
departure — leaving books and other articles to her 
intimate friends. One day she made a request that 
I should preach her funeral sermon. For a moment 
I hesitated because of relationship (having married 
her sister Josephine), then remarked, that I supposed 
there would be no impropriety in doing so, as I recol- 
lected that Whitcfield preached his wife's, to which 
she immediately added, "And Wesley preached his 
mother's." On asking if she had thought of any pas- 
sago to be used as a text, she replied : " I first thought 
of the words, i I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with 
thy likeness ' ; but you know that is all about I, and 
now I feel that Christ is all — it is all Christ : so I have 
thought of his words in the 11th of John, ' I am the 
Kesurrection and the Life.' " She also suggested to 
her sister that the following hymns (which were 
favorites with her) should be used on the occasion : 

" Come let us join our cheerful songs 
With angels round the throne;" 

" On Jordan's stormy banks I stand 
And cast a wishful eye," — 



32 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

" Joyfully, joyfully, onward I move, 
Bound for the land of bright glory and love." 

The joyous character of the hymns will at once be 
noted ; and this was the very reason why she selected 
them : she considered that they would be more expres- 
sive of her condition than the mournful ones which 
are so frequently used at funerals. Two of her poems 
seem so appropriate here that we insert them. The 
former was written in June, 1859, and the latter 
bears date " Nov. 30, 1861 " :— 

THE ONE NAME. — ACTS 4 : 12. 

" When round my dying bed ye stand, 
And kiss my cheek and clasp my hand, 
Oh, whisper in my failing ear 
The only Name I care to hear, — 
The only Name that has the power 
To comfort in the dying hour. 

" Let neither sob nor sigh be heard, 
But still repeat that sacred word, — 
Until the solace it imparts 
Descends like balm upon your hearts, 
And I in triumph gladly sing: 
' O dreaded Death, where is thy sting ? ' 

" And when released from sin and clay 
My happy spirit soars away, 
And pauses at the heavenly gate, 
Where saints and smiling angels wait, 
And views the city bright and fair, — 
That Name shall be my passport there! 

" Oh then, in calm and holy trust, 
Give my poor body to the dust — 
Assured that God will guard the clay 
Until the liesurrection Day, 
When he on whom my soul relies 
In thunder tones will bid me rise. 



LIFE-SKETCH. 33 

" Amid the earth-devouring storm, 
Made like my Saviour's glorious form, 
Redeemed from sickness, death, and pain, 
I shall awake to life again ; 
And soul and body both shall be 
With Christ throughout eternity." 

THE ADIEU. 

" You will miss me when I am gone — 
At morning, at night, and noon: 
I have needed your arm to lean upon, 
I shall need it no longer soon. 

" I've been helpless for many years, 
' No burden ' you always said; — 
I have claimed your pity, your prayers and tears 
You will miss me when I am dead. 

" How many a dreary night 

You have watched by my couch of pain, 
Till the streaming in of morning light — 
You will never watch again. 

" God taketh not all away 

The bitter and sweet he blends, 
And I bless his name by night and day 
That he has not denied me friends. 

" You have shared the heavy load, 

Which alone I could not have borne; 
I am going now to a bright abode, 
But I leave you, alas! to mourn. 

" You will miss me when I am gone, 
As you never have missed before! 
I have needed your arm to lean upon 
But soon I shall n^ed it no more. 

" I lean on my Saviour's breast 
In this hour of mortal pain; 
Oh, strong are His arms! and sweet my refct! 
Farewell! till we meet again." 

The expected hour though long of coming arrived 
at last. As long as she seemed to realize what was 



34 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

transpiring around her, and when too weak to con- 
verse, she would signify by a word or motion that she 
had peace and all was well. About a quarter past 11 
o'clock Friday night, March 13, 1863, "the silver 
cord was loosed," and she sweetly fell asleep in Jesus, 
aged twenty-eight years, four months, and sixteen 
days. On the Tuesday following we buried her from 
the village church, where ten years before she had 
decided to come out openly on the Lord's side. It 
was crowded. Three ministers, from as many differ- 
ent denominations, assisted me in the services. Her 
mother and sister (the wife of Dr. G. 0. Somers) were 
too feeble to attend. But we hope soon to greet her 
where — to use her own words, 

" Earthly love is like the starlight lost 
In glorious sunshine, and the things of time 
Shrink into nothing: even death itself 
Fades like a shadow in the noontide blaze, 
And life— new, glorious, everlasting life — 
Expands the soul, and all it ever dreamed 
Of heavenly bliss becomes reality." 

Above the stillness of death we hear the words of 
inspiration : " Precious in the sight of the Lord is the 
death of his saints " ; "Thy dead shall live again"; 
and in hope we wait. The weary pilgrim has reached 
her resting-place. She lies in the chamber of Peace, 
whose windows open toward the sunrising. 



Thou King of kings, Almighty One ! 

hend unto me the ear 
That listens to the music 

of every rolling sphere, 
And guide, oh guide my feeble hand 

to strike my slumbering lyre 
To strains harmonious and divine, 

and every thought inspire. 

— Poems, ]). 9. 



plural Irenes. 



THE WALK IN JUNE, 

A walk in June, in early June, 

Our sweet Canadian June — 
When every tree is all in leaf, 

And every bird in tune ; 
When laughing rills leap down the hills 

And through the meadows play, 
Inviting to their verdant banks 

The old, the young, the gay. 

When not a cloud is in the sky, 

Nor shadow on the lake 
Save what the trees that line the shore 

And little islands make, — 
When every nook where'er we look, 

Is bright with dewy flowers, 
And violets are thickly strewn 

As though they fell in showers. 

How sweetly on the balmy air 

The children's voices ring ! 
And even I renew my youth 

With each returning spring. 
Oh, we may keep a fresh young heart 

Though outward beauty fade, 
If we but cherish there a love 

For all that God has made. 

I do not call a happy man 
The man that's rich or great ; 



38 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

Nor him who stands with folded hands 
And says, " It is my fate ! " 

But he is blest who cheerfully 
Endures or does his part, 

And looks on earth, and sea, and sky 
With an adoring heart. 

He wanders by the pebbly beach 

And by the summer brook, 
And thoughtfully he turns the leaves 

Of Nature's blessed book. 
In forest shade, on hill, in vale, 

Where'er he walks abroad, 
There goes an humble worshipper — 

A lover of his God. 

The cares that trouble other men 

For him have little weight ; 
He values glory at its worth, 

Nor cringes to the great. 
His simple pleasures never fail, 

Nor make his nature cold, — 
And though the years may come and go, 

He never can be old. 

You call the picture overdrawn — 

But such a man I know ; 
Whose presence, like the morning sun, 

Dispels each cloud of woe. 
And trustingly I cling to him 

As only true love can, — 
My comforter, protector, guide, — 

My love, thou art the man ! 

And you are teaching me to look 
On nature with your eyes ; 



RUKAI, SCENES. 39 

The pleasant change within my heart 

Each day I realize. 
The world is brighter now to me, 

A holier thing is life 
Than even on that happy day 

When first you called me wife. 

The trifles that perplexed me then 

Now leave my spirit calm, — 
And for the deeper woes of life 

I have a healing balm. 
I see the hand of God in all, 

I know that he is just ; 
And where I cannot understand 

I've learned to wait and trust. 

Oh, I remember well the day — 

'Twas in the month of June, 
When every tree was all in leaf, 

And every bird in tune, — 
We walked together, arm in arm, 

As we are walking now, 
But I was young, and Time had left 

No traces on your brow. 

I listened with a strange delight 

To every word you said, 
And then to hide the burning tears 

I turned away my head. 
I dared not trifle with your love, 

Though till that magic hour 
I had not cared for aching hearts 

If they but owned my power. 

I never felt so vile before — 
So humbled in mine eyes ; 



40 CANADIAX WILD FLOWERS. 

I wondered what you saw to love : 

I thought you must despise. 
For I was gay, and you were grave, 

And I was vain and proud : 
You loved the meadow and the grove, 
• And I the laughing crowd. 

I told you frankly of my faults, 

You would not hear me through ; 
You said you were an erring man, 

And earthly angels few. 
But would I show my better side ? 

And would I deign to bless ? 
You held my hand — what could I do ? 

And so I answered, " Yes." 

Do I regret it ? Nay, my love, 

For were I free as then 
The man I chose I still would choose 

Before all other men. 
And I would say, For life or death, 

For happiness or woe, 
Where'er you dwell there I will dwell, 

Where'er you go, I go. 

That was a day, and that a walk 

To be remembered long : 
It changed the current of my life, 

And made each thought a song. 
There was a glory in the sky, 

A glory on the trees, 
And the perfumes of Paradise 

Were poured on every breeze. 

I scarcely seemed to walk the earth, 
My spirit was so light ; 



EUEAL SCENES. 41 



•5J 



'Twas easy then to shun the wrong 

S< i easy to do right. 
New hopes began to bud and bloom 

Like blossoms in the spring, — 
My heart o'erflowed with tenderness 

For every living thing. 

I was no more the thoughtless girl 

By idle fancy led ; 
Life seemed to me reality, 

And yet I did not dread 
To walk along its roughest path : 

I should not walk alone, — 
Another and a better life 

Was blended with mine own. 

One blessing more, and then you said 

Our joy would be complete ; 
Your prayer was answered when I sat 

At the Redeemer's feet. 
And deeper, holier grew our love, — 

Our union was to be 
Not only for a lifetime here, 

But for eternity. 

Thus peacefully we passed along 

Till that eventful day 
When all the labor of our hands 

Like chaff was swept away : 
We saw our home made desolate, 

Our pleasant cottage sold ; 
Men called us poor, but we were rich 

In better things than gold. 

For we had lived an honest life ; 
We could look up and say : 



42 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

We never wronged a fellow-man, 
Nor turned the poor away. 

We held a treasure in our arms 
Which every care beguiled ; 

He never sorrowed, never sinned — 
For Jesus took the child. 

There is a little mound of earth 

Where, when the spring appears, 
We watch the budding violets, 

And water them with tears. 
Oh, it were more than earthly love 

That soothed a parent's woe 
When there we laid our darling down, 

Full twenty years ago ! 

Sometimes my heart grows sad and sick 

When to the past I turn, 
And for a sweet and gentle voice 

To call me mother yearn. 
I see the silver in my hair, 

The lines upon your brow, — 
And oh, I wish our boy had lived 

To be our comfort now ! 

One moment — then the wish is o'er : 

The sun begins to shine ; 
I lift my heart in thankfulness, 

And say, " Thy will is mine." 
'Tis true, of poverty and pain 

We both have had our share, 
But do you think in all the world 

There is a happier pair ? 

I know the harvest-time is near, — 
I know the Eeaper stands 



BUBAL SCENES. 43 

Before us, and I tremble much 

Lest he unlock our hands. 
But God will be our strength and shield, 

Our refuge in that hour ; 
And he will join our hands again 

Beyond the Eeaper's power. 

Now let me wipe away those tears ; 

Forget my gloomy talk, 
And with your own improve the scene 

And sanctify our walk : 
So that with Nature's melody 

Our hearts may be in tune, 
And send up incense like the flowers 

This pleasant day in June ! 



AN EVENING MEDITATION. 

How softly yonder pale star beams above my head 
to-night ! How beautiful it appears in the azure vault 
of heaven where twilight holds the connecting link 
between day and night. Oh, if my soul were freed 
from its clayey fetters how swiftly it would fly (if 
such a journey were possible) to the boundaries of 
that sweet star ! Can that fair planet, seemingly so 
pure and spotless, be inhabited by beings as frail and 
erring as ourselves ? Can there be any sad souls 
there to-night — any who are weeping over blighted 
hopes and blasted prospects ? It may be so ; and yet 
perchance such a thing as a pang of sorrow and a 
burning tear are unknown, for it may be sin has never 
entered there. Vain, useless conjectures ! But will 



44 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

the veil which hides the scenes of other worlds from 
our eyes never be withdrawn ? . . . . Surely it is 
because God is merciful that I have been spared 
through another day. I cannot forbear wondering 
that I have been spared so long, — that I have not 
been cut down as a cumberer of the ground. God, 
according to thy loving-kindness preserve me. Grant 
that I may yet be an humble instrument in thy hand 
of doing something for the good of thy cause. For- 
give my numberless sins and at last receive me to 
glory.— -July 20, 1852. 

It is a lovely scene ; the sun has set, 

But left his glory in the western sky 
Where daylight lingers, half regretful yet 

That sombre Night, her sister, draweth nigh, 

And one pale star just looketh from on high ; 
'Tis neither day nor night, but both have blent 

Their own peculiar charms to please the eye, — 
Declining day its sultry heat has spent, 
And calm, refreshing night its grateful coolness lent. 

The lake is sleeping — on its quiet breast 
Are clouds of every tint the rainbows wear, 

Some are in crimson, some in gold are dressed. 
Oh, had I wings, like yonder birds of air, 
How I would love to clip my pinions there, 

Then mount exulting to the heavenly gate, — 
A song of love and gratitude to bear 

To Him who gives the lowly and the great, 

In earth, and sea, and sky, so glorious an estate. 

It is the time when angels are abroad 

Upon their work of love and peace to men, — 



KUBAL SCENES. 45 

Commissioned from the dazzling throne of God, 
They come to earth as joyfully as when 
The tidings ran o'er mountain and o'er glen, 

" A son is born, a Saviour and a King," — 
_ For they have tidings glorious as then, 

Since tokens from our risen Lord they bring, 

That life has been secured, and death has lost its sting. 

The twilight deepens ; o'er the distant hill 

A veil is spread of soft and misty grey ; 
And from the lake, so beautiful and still, 

The images of sunset fade away ; 

The twinkling stars come forth in bright array, 
Which shunned the splendor of the noontide glare, — 

A holy calm succeeds the bustling day, 
And gentle voices stealing through the air, 
Proclaim to hearts subdued the hour of grateful prayer. 



NATURE'S RESURRECTION. 

Hark ! it is the robin crying, 

He has heard the voice of Spring ; 

From the woods the crow is flying, 
And the jay is on the wing. 

Slowly now the sun is ranging 
Each day nearer to the west ; 

All things tell the year is changing, 
Nature wakens from her rest. 

Lower sink the snow-drifts daily, 
Half the pasture lands are bare ; 

And the little streams leap gayly 
From their chains to breathe the air. 



46 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

While the barren earth rejoices, 
Care-worn mortal, come away, — 

Listen to the pleasant voices 
Of the resurrection day. 

Dost thou understand the token ? 

Nature should not teach in vain 
What its gracious Lord hath spoken- 

That the dead shall live again ! 



THE BIRD'S NEST, 

Two robins came in early Spring, — 
When Winter's reign was o'er ; 

And every morn I heard them sing 
Just by our cottage door. 

They built their nest of moss and hay 

Within a maple tree, — 
And thither every pleasant day, 

I went to hear and see. 

At first whene'er I came they flew, 

Or eyed me in alarm ; 
But soon my step familiar grew, 

I never did them harm. 

One day a louder song I heard, 
With eager cries for food ; 

And then I helped the mother-bird 
To still her hungry brood. 

I always seemed a welcome guest ; 
Both old and young I fed, 



KUKAL SCENES. 47 

Then settling down beneath the nest, 
Some pleasant book I read. 

I watched them fondly day by day, 
Until their wings were grown ; 

When suddenly they flew away, 
And left me all alone. 

The bitter tears began to start, 

And full of sad regret 
I wondered in nvy simple heart, 

If birds could thus forget ! 

Ah ! many summers have returned, 

And many changes wrought, 
Since I the mournful lesson learned, 

In early childhood taught. 

And many hopes have taken wings 

On which my heart was set, — 
And I have found that many things 

As well as birds forget ! 



GATHER VIOLETS. 

Gather violets white and blue, 
Where the southern zephyrs play ; 

Bring them sparkling with the dew, — 
With the blessed dew of May. 

Let me fold them to my breast, 
Emblems sweet of earthly bliss ; 

Ha ! they love to be caressed, 
For they give me kiss for kiss. 



48 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

How my weary heart dotli yearn, 
Touched as by a hand Divine, 

While their soft blue eyes they turn 
Full of sympathy to mine ! 

Do they know how much I sigh 

For the meadows where they grew ? 

For the forest and the sky, 

Where they caught their azure hue ? 

There is One who knows it all, — 
To his loving arms I flee : 

Oh, he hears my feeblest call, 
And I know he pities me. 

He ere long will take my hand 
Saying tenderly, " Arise ! " 

He will lead me to the land 
Where no blossom ever dies. 



TO A DANDELION. 

Blessings on thy sunny face, 
In my heart thou hast a place, 

Humble Dandelion ! 
Forms more lovely are around thee, 
Purple violets surround thee, — 
But I know thy honest heart 
Never felt a moment's smart 
At another's good or beauty, — 
Ever at thy post of duty, 
Smiling on the great and small, 
Rich and poor, and wishing all 
Health, and happiness, and pleasure, 
Oh, thou art a golden treasure ! 



RURAL SCENES. 49 

I remember years ago, 

How I longed to see thee blow, 

Humble Dandelion ! 
Through the meadows I would wander, 
O'er the verdant pastures yonder, 
Filling hands and filling lap, 
Till the teacher's rap, rap, rap, 
Sounding on the window sash 
Dreadful as a thunder crash, 
Called me from my world ideal 
To a world how sad and real, — 
From a laughing sky and brook 
To a dull old spelling-book ; 
Then with treasures hid securely, 
To my seat I crept demurely. 

Childhood's careless days are o'er, 
Happy school days come no more, 

Humble Dandelion ! 
Through a desert I am walking, 
Hope eluding, pleasure mocking, 
Every earthly fountain dry, 
Yet when thou didst meet mine eye, 
Something like a beam of gladness 
Did illuminate my sadness, 
And I hail thee as a friend 
Come a holiday to spend 
By the couch of pain and anguish. 
Where I suffer, moan and languish. 

When at length I sink to rest, 
And the turf is on my breast, 
Humble Dandelion ! 
Wilt thou when the morning breaketh, 
And the balmy spring awaketh, 
Bud and blossom at a breath 



50 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

From the icy arms of death, 
Wilt thou smile upon my tomb ? 
Drawing beauty from the gloom, 
Making life less dark and weary, 
Making death itself less dreary, 
Whispering in a gentle tone 
To the mourner sad and lone, 
Of a spring-time when the sleeper 
Will arise to bless the weeper ? 



My Father made this beautiful world and gave me a 
heart to love his works. Oh, may I love Him better 
than all created things ! 



The little plat of ground around our house is a 
great field of instruction and amusement to me. How 
little do I comprehend of all contained within it ! I 
am glad I was not born in some great city — where 
Nature had not been so kind and dear a friend. 



TO A ROBIN. 

Robin Red-breast on the tree, 
Do you sing that song for me ? 

"You are listening it is true, 
But I do not sing for you. 
Higher yet on tiptoe rise, 
Don't you see a pair of eyes 
Peeping through the pleasant shade 



KUKAL SCENES. 51 

Which the summer leaves have made ? 
There they watch me all clay long, 
Brightening at my cheerful song, 
Turning wheresoe'er I go 
For the evening meal below. 
Dearest mate that ever blest 
Happy lover — peaceful nest, — 
Guarding well our eggs of blue, 
All my songs I sing for you ! " 



GOD IS THERE, 

"When the howling winds are high, 
And the vivid lightnings fly 

Through the air ; — 
When the deafening thunders roll, 
Peace to thee, troubled soul — 

God is there ! 

When the dreary storm is past, 
And the promised bow at last — 

Bright and fair — 
In the cloudy sky appears, 
Smiling still through Nature's tears 

God is there ! 

When the tender buds unfold 
Bright with purple and with gold 

In the air, — 
Or, at twilight when they close 
Wrapped awhile in sweet repose 

God is there ! 

Where the robin chants her lay 
Sweetly at the dawn of day, 



52 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

Or with care 
Builds her soft and downy nest, 
Lulls her little brood to rest, 

God is there ! 

When the countless stars appear, 
Ever to the listening ear 

They declare : 
He who sees the sparrows fall 
Made us and supports us all ; 

God is there ! 

When the youthful knee is bent, 
And to heaven is humbly sent 

Grateful prayer, — 
Bending from his throne above 
Full of tenderness and love 

God is there ! 

Though his arm sustains the spheres 
'Tis the sweetest sound he hears — 

Child-like prayer ; 
Seek then oft the peaceful shade : 
There our Blessed Saviour prayed — 

God is there ! 



THE CANADIAN FARMER. 

How beautiful thou art, my native stream ! 

Art thou not worthy of a poet's theme '.' 

The Po and Tiber live in ancient lays, 

And smaller streams have had their meed of praise, 

Art thou less lovely ? True, in classic lore 

Thou art unknown, and on thy quiet shore 

There are no monuments of other times, 



RURAL SCENES. 53 

No records of the past — its woes or crimes. 
The roar of cannon and the clang of arms 
Have never shook thy bosom with alarms, 
And never has thy calm and peaceful flood 
Been stained to crimson with a brother's blood. 
The sportsman's rifle only hast thou heard 
Scaring the rabbit and the timid bird ; 
Or may be in the savage days of yore 
The wolf and bear have bled upon thy shore. 
But rural peace and beauty reign to-night ; 
The harvest moon illumes with holy light 
Each wave that ripples in its onward flow 
O'er rock concealed amid the depths below, 
And gives a strange, wild beauty to the scene 
On either shore, where trees of evergreen, 
Hemlocks and firs, their dusky shadows fling, 
Around whose trunks the heavy mosses cling, 
With maples clad in crimson, gold and brown, 
Bright like the west when first the sun goes clown. 

Here from this summit where I often roam 
I can behold my cot, my humble home ; 
There I was born, and when this life is o'er 
I hope to sleep upon the river's shore. 
There is the orchard which I helped to rear, 
It well repays my labor year by year : 
One apple tree towers high above the rest 
Where every spring a blackbird has its nest. 
Sweet Lily used to stand beneath the bough 
And smiling listen — but she comes not now. 
A fairer bird ne'er charmed the rising day 
Than she we loved thus early called away ; 
But she is gone to sing her holy strains 
In lovelier gardens and on greener plains. 

There are the fields that I myself have cleared 
Of trees and brush, and where a waste appeared 



54 CAXADIAX WILD FLOWERS. 

The corn just ready for the sickle stands, 
And golden pumpkins dot rny fertile lands. 
There are the pastures where my cattle feed, 
My gentle kine supply the milk we need ; 
Sweet cream and cheese are daily on our board, 
And clothing warm my snowy sheep afford. 
There are the flowers my Annie loves to tend, — 
How often do I see her smiling bend 
To pluck the weeds, or teach the graceful vine 
Around the string or slender pole to twine. 
How often when the toils of day are done, 
And I return just at the set of sun, 
She comes to meet me down the verdant lane — 
Sweet partner of my pleasures and my pain — 
With snow-white buds amid her sunny hair, 
To win my favor all her joy and care. 
How often does she wander forth with me 
And share my seat beneath the maple tree, 
And smile and blush to hear my ardent lays 
Recount her virtues and pour forth her praise. 

Hark ! 'tis her voice, sweet as the wildbird's song ; 

She comes to tell me I have tarried long : 

I hear her now an old love ditty hum, 

And now she calls — I come, dear love, I come. 



THE RETURN. 

Grateful to our sleepless eyes, 
Lo, the beams of morn arise, 
And the mountain-tops are gray 
With the light of coining day, — 
And the birds are on the wing. 
With the happy birds we'll sing 



RURAL SCENES. 55 

Bidding doubt and gloom be gone, 
Like the shadows at the dawn. 

Yes, for eyes as bright as day 
Glance adown the shady way ; 
Gentle voices with delight 
Whisper, " They will come to-night "; 
Hearts as fond and true as ours 
Wait for us in lovely bowers : 
Nor shall wait for us in vain, 
Faithful ones, we come again. 

Where the bending willows weep, 
And the mosses slowly ereap, 
We our harps neglected hung. 
Soon again they will be strung, — 
Forest, dell, and mountain stream 
Will take up the blissful theme 
When no longer doomed to roam 
We can chant the praise of home. 

Lo, in yonder sky the sun 
Half his daily task has dune ; 
We will rest beside the spring, 
While the bird with folded wing 
Sits within his cool retreat, 
Shaded from the noontide heat, 
And the bees, with drowsy hum, 
Homeward, honey-laden come. 

Homeward too our way we hold, 
Laden, not with paltry gold, 
But with treasures better far 
Than the richest jewels are : 
Simple, trusting hearts, content 
With the blessings Heaven has lent. 



56 CANADIAN "WILD FLOWERS. 

Once within our love-lit cot, 
Eich and great we envy not. 

Lo, the shadows lengthen fast ; 
Now the well-known hills are past ; 
Now the forest, dark and tall — 
Oh, how we remember all ! 
Now the pastures strewn with rocks, 
Where we used to watch our flocks, — 
Farther down the winding road, 
See ! it is our own abode. 

Where the slanting sunbeams fall 
On the lowly cottage wall, 
Fancy can already trace 
Each belov'd, familiar face : 
One by one each form appears 
Till our eyes are dim with tears ; 
If the foretaste be so sweet 
Soon our joy will be complete ! 

Here we are ! But all is still 
Save the ever-murmuring rill, — 
Save the hooting of the owl, 
And the village watch-dog's howl. 
Slowly swings the cottage door — 
Shall we cross the threshold o'er ? 
Empty and deserted all — 
Echo answers to our call ! 

Where the bending willow tree 
Oft has sheltered thee and me, 
Lo, the turf has been uptorn : 
We have come, — but come to mourn ! 
Eyes are dim and lips are cold, 
' And our arms we sadly fold 



RURAL SCENES. 57 

Over hearts, till hushed and dead, 
Never to be comforted ! 

No ; our hearts shall still be strong, 
For the journey is not long; 
In a holy, deathless land 
We shall meet our household band : 
In the fairer bowers above, 
They await the friends they love, 
Oh, what joy with them to dwell, 
Never more to say farewell ! 



THE OLD SUGAR CAMP. 

[Whoever has attended a " sugaring off " in the woods will 
enjoy the reading of this poem — the description is so life-like 
and exhilarating. It is a home scene.] 

Come let us away to the old Sugar Camp ; 
The sky is serene though the ground may be damp, — 
And the little bright streams, as they frolic and run, 
Turn a look full of thanks to the ice-melting sun ; 
While the warm southern winds, wherever they go, 
Leave patches of brown 'mid the glittering snow. 

The oxen are ready, and Carlo and Tray 

Are watching us, ready to be on the way, 

While a group of gay children, with platter and spoon, 

And faces as bright as the roses of June, 

O'er fences and ditches exultingly spring, 

Light-hearted and careless as birds on the wing. 

Where's Edwin ? Oh, here he comes, loading his gun ; 
Look out for the partridges — hush ! there is one ! 
Poor victim ! a bang and a flutter — 'tis o'er, — 



58 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

And those fair dappled wings shall expand nevermore ; 

It was shot for onr invalid sister at home, 

Yet we sigh as beneath the tall branches we roam. 

Our cheeks all aglow with the long morning tramp, 
"We soon come in sight of the old Sugar Camp ; 
The syrup already is placed in the pan, 
And we gather around it as many as can, — 
We try it on snow ; when we rind it is done 
We fill up a mold for a dear absent one. 

Oh, gayest and best of all parties are these, 
That meet in the Camp 'neath the old maple trees, 
Renewing the love and the friendship of years, — 
They are scenes to be thought of with smiles and 

with tears 
When age shall have furrowed each beautiful cheek, 
And left in dark tresses a silvery streak. 

Here brothers and sisters and lovers have met, 
And cousins and friends we can never forget ; 
The prairie, the ocean, divide us from some, 
Yet oft as the seasons for sugaring come, 
The cup of bright syrup to friendship we'll drain, 
And gather them, home to our bosom again. 

Dear Maple, that yieldeth a nectar so rare, 

So useful in spring, and in summer so fair, — 

Of autumn acknowledged the glory and queen, 

Attendant on every Canadian scene, 

Enshrined in our homes it is meet thou shouldst be 

Of our country the emblem, O beautiful Tree ! 



RURAL SCEXES. 59 

TO A RABBIT. 

Go to the green wood, go 

I oft shall sigh for thee, — 
And yet rejoice to know, 

That thou art sporting free. 

Go to the meadows green, 

Where summer holds her reign ; 

"When winter spoils the scene 
Wjlt thou return again ? 

A shelter thou, wouldst find 

From every howling storm ; 
The heart thou leav'st behind 

Would still be true and warm. 

Why dost thou struggle thus ? 

Does every balmy breeze 
That softly fanneth us, 

Tell of the waving trees ? 

Do yonder happy birds 

That sing for thee and me, 
For chorus have the words 

So precious — " I am free ? " 

Go then, as free as they, 

As light and happy roam 
With thy companions gay, 

Safe in thy forest home. 

There — thou art gone ; farewell ! 

My heart leaps up with thine ; 
And I rejoice to tell 

Thou art no longer mine. 



60 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

I could not breathe the air 
Where pining captives dwell ; 

My freedom thon wilt share, 
With joy then, fare-thee-well. 



THE OLD MAN. 

The old man's cheek was wet with tears, 
And his wrinkled brow was pale, 

As after a lapse of many years 
He stood in his native vale. 

The warblers sang in the leafy bough, 
And the earth was robed in green ; ■ 

But the old man's heart beat sadly now 
While he gazed on the lovely scene. 

The stream ran clear to the distant sea, 

The same as he saw it last ; 
And sitting beneath an old elm tree, 

He thought of days in the past. 

He thought how he climbed the verdant hill, 
Or roved through the forest wild, 

Or traced to its source the rippling rill, 
A gay and careless child. 

And as he thought of the happy throng 
That around him used to crowd 

With the ringing laugh and the joyous song, 
The old man wept' aloud. 

For well he knew they would meet no more 
On the dreary shores of time, — 

But he looked away to a brighter shore, 
He looked to a deathless clime. 



RURAL SCENES. 



61 



That moment a young and merry group 

Came bounding across the lea, 
With rosy cheek, with ball and with hoop 

They came to the old elm tree. 

They paused awhile in their noisy play 

To gaze on the aged man, 
While he wiped his falling tears away 

And in trembling tones began : 

" I would not cloud for the world your joy, 
Or have you less happy for me — 
For I have been like yourselves a boy 
Though I'm now the wreck you see. 

" But let the words of wisdom and truth 
In your memories be enrolled, — 
And in the days of your sunny youth 
Be hind to the poor and old I " 

The children wept as they heard him speak, 

And forgetful of their play 
They wiped the tears from his furrowed cheek, 

And they smoothed his locks of gray. 

He laid his hand with a tender air 

By turns on each youthful head, 
Then lifting his faded eyes in prayer, 

" God bless you ! " the old man said. 

And the boys ivere blest : — for the angels flung 
Around them their wings of gold ; 

So ever they do when the gay and young 
Are kind to the poor and old. 



62 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

THE FADING AND THE UNFADING. 

Once more the beautiful Spring has returned, and 
from my window I can behold the delightful places 
where I have so often roamed in childhood light- 
hearted and happy. But the lovely Spring brings no 
longer the same emotions as of yore. Oh no ! for " a 
change has come over the spirit of my dream." Earth 
has lost its charms, and although I love the beauties 
of nature even better than before, still they cannot 
satisfy, — they are doomed to fade, and my soul yearns 
for those beautiful heavenly bowers which shall never 
wither ; where God himself reigns in person and 
" chases night away." But, although I sigh for such 
things, am I prepared for them ? Should I be ready 
at this moment to enter the paradise of God ? Ah, 
my heart, why shouldest thou hesitate thus to return 
an answer ? God is still able and willing to save, and 
though I have wandered so far from Him, if with an 
humble and penitent soul I confess my sins he is will- 
ing and able to forgive me. — June 4, 1853. 



ON RECEIPT OF SOME WILD FLOWERS. 

I bedewed with tears those spring-time flowers, 
For they brought to my mind the happy hours 
When I roamed through the forests and meadows 

green 
With a heart all alive to each beautiful scene. 

I loved the flowers when my step was light, 

And my cheek with the glow of health was bright, 



RURAL SCENES. 63 

Through, forest and meadows, o'er plain and o'er hill 
I may wander no more — but I love them still ! 

I love the flowers, and I love them best 

When they first peep out from earth's snow-wreathed 

breast ; 
For they tell, amid sorrow, and death, and gloom, 
Of a spring that shall visit the depths of the tomb ! 

And oh ! could I roam through Fortune's bowers, 
I would twine a wreath of the sweetest flowers, 
Whose beauty and fragrance should ne'er depart — 
But brighten thy home and gladden thy heart ! 

But the flowers of earth are fragile and fair, — 

And the young brow must fade and be furrowed with 

care ; 
But hast thou not heard of a wonderful clime 
That ne'er has been marred by the footsteps of Time ? 

There in gardens of bliss the weary repose ; 

There the pale, sickly cheek wears the hue of the 

rose ; 
There death never comes, — Oh, amid its bright bowers, 
May we twine for each other a garland of flowers ! 



THE SICK GIRL'S DREAM. 

I heard the other night in dreams 

The early robin sing : 
The southern winds unlocked the streams, 

And warmed the heart of Spring. 

The plum-trees wore their bridal dress, 
The willows donned their plumes, 



64 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

And to the zephyr's fond, caress 
Gave forth their rare perfumes. 

Through months of wintry frost and storm- 
Yet never harmed by them — - 

A million germs had nestled warm, 
Close to the parent stem. 

The happy spring-time broke their rest, 
They drank the morning dew, 

They clasped the sunbeams to their breast, 
And clothed the trees anew. 

The clouds distilled the fertile rain 
And sent it forth in showers ; 

The sunlight danced along the plain 
And painted it with flowers. 

The butterfly went forth to play, 

The useful honey bee 
Kept up a hum through all the day 

Of cheerful industry. 

The squirrel gamboled in the grove, 

The rabbit bounded by, 
The wary spider spun and wove, 

And trapped the careless fly. 

From out the joyous, vocal wood 

The song of warblers came : 
The cuckoo, in a merry mood, 

Told and re-told its name. 

And when behind the purple hill 

The sun went out of sight, 
The frogs began with hearty will 

Their concert for the night. 



KUKAL SCEXES. Q5 

Such scenes had made, in brighter years, 

My heart with transport leap, 
But now they touched the spring of tears, 

I sobbed aloud in sleep. 

And is there not some balm, I cried, 

'Mid nature's boundless wealth ? 
"Behold"— a gentle voice replied— 

"Behold the Fount of health ! » 

Just then a torrent met my eye, 

Fresh from the rock it burst ; 
I could have drained the fountain dry, 

So raging was my thirst. 

Such deep emotions filled my soul 

I woke — the vision fled : 
The moonbeams through the curtain stole, • 

Ah ! 'twas a dream, I said. 

But well I know there is a land 

Where flows the living stream; 
And when upon its banks I stand, 

Oh, then 'twill be no dream. 



THE LAST SONG. 

"Earth is fair, oh so fair,"— 

Sang a little, happy bird ; 
Though a prey to grief and care, 

With a smile I heard. 
Sing again that blithesome strain, 

Precious little bird, I said ; 
For the heart that throbbed with pain 

Thou hast comforted ! 



66 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

" Earth is fair, oh so fair," 

Louder sang the happy bird ; 
"What have I to do with care, 

Or with hope deferred ? " 
All the western sky was red 

With the beams of setting sun, 
As the sportsman homeward sped 

With the fatal gun. 

" Earth is fair, oh so fair, 

And I love the green earth well," — 
Death was in the balmy air, 

And the warbler fell ! 
Earth is fair — but earth no more 

Wears its pleasant green for thee, — 
Cold and stiff and bathed in gore 

Underneath the tree. 

Earth is fair, but alas ! 

It hath many scenes of woe ; 
Happy they who through them pass, 

Sweetly singing as they go, — 
Comforting some lonely heart, 

Making some weak spirit strong; — 
So may I, and then depart, 

On my lips a song ! 



AN EVENING SCENE, 

How still and calm ! what fairer scene e'er met 

The eye of mortal short of Paradise ? 

The quiet lake is like a mirror set 

In richest green where sunset loves to see 

Itself arrayed in crimson, pink and gold. 

And e'en the proud old mountain bows his head 



RUKAL SCEXES. QJ 

Shaggy with hemlocks, and appears well pleased 

To view so grand a form reflected there. 

Hark ! o'er the polished surface how the loons 

Call to each other, waking echoes wild 

From crag and cliff, and waking in my heart 

Sweet memories of other days and years 

When health was on my cheek, and hope and love 

O'er all the future wove one iris bright. 

All, little prophets, do you then predict 

A rainy morrow ? By yon crimson west 

I doubt your warnings ; so in truth it seems 

Does yonder farmer who, with shouldered scythe 

From meadows fragrant with the new-mown hay, 

Goes whistling homeward, glad to seek repose 

Until another sun shall call him forth, 

To gather into barns the winter's store 

Of food provided for the gentle kine 

That faintly lowing from the pastures come 

Scented with herbage, giving promise fair 

Of pails o'erflowing with a sweeter drink 

Than ever gleamed in the inebriate's bowl. 

Now o'er the landscape signs of twilight creep, 

And sounds that tell of night— sounds that I love : 

The hooting of the owl, the tree-frog's cry 

By distance mellowed ; and— more distant still— 

I hear the barking of the village dogs. 

The breath of evening whispering 'mid the pines, 

And deepening shadows, bid me homeward turn • 

And yet I linger — for I seem a part 

Of lake and mountain, meadow, tree and sky,— 

And realize how sweet a thing it is 

To lay my heart so close to "Nature's own 

That I can feel its throbbing, while each pulse 

.Responsive beats, and o'er my being steals 

A rapturous calm like that our parents felt 



68 CANADIAN" WILD FLOWERS. 

When to the bowers of Eden they repaired, 
And praised their Maker seen in all his works. 

Author of nature ! Source of life and light ! 

Almighty Father ! let me praise thee too. 

This lovely world is thine ; yon moon and stars 

That now begin to usher in the night 

Are but the outposts of unnumbered spheres 

That march in order round thy dazzling throne, 

And chant thy praises in perpetual song. 

All these are thine, for thou hast made them all ; 

And I am thine ! I thank thee, Lord of lords, 

King of the Universe, Creator, God, 

That while in part I realize thy power 

I know it has an equal in the love 

Which bowed the heavens and consecrated earth 

When the Messiah came to save mankind, 

And in its proper orbit reinstate 

A fallen world, which shall one day become 

The fairest 'mid the sisterhood of orbs, 

The most renowned because the dearest bought, — 

The best beloved, because the ransom given 

Was all that God omnipotent could pay ! 



AUTUMN TEACHINGS. 

The howling winds rage around my casement. The 
summer is past, and everything indicates that winter 
will soon be here. The seared leaves are falling from 
their homes in the waving forests ; the earth has 
thrown aside her gay mantle of green, and one scene 
of desolation presents itself to the eye. The decay of 
nature brings with it sad and solemn reflections, how 



BUBAL SCENES. 69 

much more the decay of the human form — of which 
autumn seems so striking an emblem. The days of 
man are few. Like the flower of the field he perish- 
eth, and yet how few seem to realize it! God, 
teach me to apply my heart unto wisdom. Help me 
to love and serve thee, that when " the heavens shall 
be dissolved and the elements shall melt with fervent 
heat " I may not be among those who shall take up 
the sad lamentation : " The harvest is past, the sum- 
mer is ended, and we are not saved." — Oct., 1852. 



THE WATCHER. 

[As Miss Jonxsox lived in the house with Dr. G. O. Som- 
ers, who would frequently in winter cross lake Memphremagog 
on the ice in visiting his patients, the following, written on a 
8ick-bed, gives a graphic description of what her fears pictured 
might be a reality.] 

Night comes, but he comes not ! I fear 
The treacherous ice ; what do I hear ? 
Bells ? nay, I am deceived again, — 
'Tis but the ringing in my brain. 
Oh how the wind goes shrieking past ! 
Was it a voice upon the blast ? 
A cry for aid ? My God protect ! 
Preserve his life — his course direct ! 
How suddenly it has grown dark — 
How very dark without — hush ! hark ! 
; Tis but the creaking of the door ; 
It opens wide, and nothing more. 
Then wind and snow came in ; I thought 
Some straggler food and shelter sought ; 



70 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

But more I feared, for fear is weak, 

That some one came of Lira to speak: 

To tell how long he braved the storm, 

How long he kept his bosom Avarm 

With thoughts of home, how long he cheered 

His weary horse that plunged, and reared, 

And wallowed through the drifted snow 

Till daylight faded, and the glow 

Of hope Avent out ; how almost blind, 

He peered around, below, behind, — 

No road, no track, the very shore 

All blotted out, — one struggle more, 

It is thy last, perchance, brave heart ! 

O God ! a reef ! the masses part 

Of snoAv and ice, and dark and deep 

The Avaters lie in death-like sleep; 

He sees too late the chasm yawn ; 

Sleigh, horse and driver, all are gone ! 

Father in heaven ! It may be thus, 

But thou art gracious, — pity us, 

Save him, and me in mercy spare 

What 'tAvould be worse than death to bear. 

Hark ! hark ! am I deceived again ? 

Nay, 'tis no ringing in my brain ; 

My pulses leap — my bosom swells — 

Thank God ! it is, it is his bells / 



Patriotic '^ocmjsi. 



THE SURRENDER OF QUEBEC, 

[Quebec is the oldest city in Canada, having been founded 
by Champlain, in 1608, near the site of an Indian village. It 
was taken from tbe French, by the English, under General 
Wolfe, in 17-39, after a heroic defence by Montcalm. Both 
generals fell on the battle-field, mortally wounded. In 1853 
the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec offered a prize 
medal for the best poem relating to the history of Canada. 
Miss Johnson (then in her eighteenth year) wrote the follow- 
ing, which took the prize.] 

The orb of day upon his pathway pressed, 
Beaming with splendor, toward the shining west, 
Cast one long, lingering glance upon the scene, 
Lit up the river and the forest green, 
Left his last rays upon the lordly dome, 
And deigned to smile upon the peasant's home ; 
Then 'neath the western hills he sought repose, 
And sank to rest as calmly as he rose : 
Bright at the dawn of day, but brighter now, 
When day had almost passed, and round her brow 
Hung the expiring beams of dazzling light, 
The certain presage of approaching night. 
Slowly his gorgeous train, like him, withdrew. 
Changing as they advanced in form and hue, 
Until one lovely tint of fairest dye 
Stole softly o'er the calm and cloudless sky ; 
Day, gently smiling, left her gleaming throne, 
And evening fair came forth, and reigned alone. 
The twinkling stars the azure vault adorned : 



72 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

Like glistening gems, a glorious crown they formed, 
And proudly sat in splendor pure and bright 
Upon the pale and pensive brow of night ; 
While in the midst of all, with tranquil mein, 
Mild Cynthia lent enchantment to the scene. 

Beneath lay spreading pastures green and fair, 
And lofty hills and waving forests, where 
The human voice had never yet been heard, 
Or other sound, save when the depths were stirred 
By the loud screams of some lone midnight bird. 
But high o'er all the lofty city rose, 
Firm in its strength, sublime in its repose; 
On every hand by nature fortified, 
And strongly built ; with air of conscious pride 
Gazed from its heights upon the scene below, 
And bade defiance to each lurking foe ; 
Confiding in its bulwarks firm and sure, 
It calmly slept and deemed itself secure ! 

The river swept along ; with surging roar 
Its waves dashed wildly on the rocky shore ; 
While on its broad, expansive bosom lay 
The twinkling orbs in beautiful array ; 
And every pearly drop shone clear and bright, 
Bathed in a flood of soft and silvery light. 
Scarcely a ripple stirred its quiet breast ; 
For every sighing breeze was lulled to rest, 
And every sound was hushed on earth, in air, 
And silence held supreme dominion there. 

Sleep sent his angels forth ; with silent tread, 
From house to house, they on their mission sped ; 
Watched by the couch of suffering and pain. 
Soothed the pale brow and calmed the throbbing brain, 
Eased the sad heart and closed the weeping eye, 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 73 

Bade care and grief with their attendants fly, 
Entered the chamber of the rich and great, 
Nor scorned to visit those of mean estate, 
But blessed alike the lofty and the low, 
Alike bade each forget their weight of woe. 
The proud and wealthy drew around their breast 
"The curtains of repose," and sank to rest; 
The pallid sons of want and hunger slept, 
And sorrow's sons forgot that they had wept. 

The night wore slowly on ; the dismal tower 
Had long since tolled the lonely midnight hour 
When a proud band, by daring impulse led, 
Approached the river with a cautious tread, 
With kindling eye and with an eager air, 
Unmoored the boats that waited for them there ; 
In silence left the calm and peaceful shore, 
In sullen silence plied the hasty oar, 
In silence passed adown the quiet stream, 
While ever and anon a pale moonbeam, 
Sad and reproachful, cast a hasty glance 
On polished dagger and on gleaming lance. 

The scene was mournful, and with magic art 
It acted strangely on each manly heart ; 
No speedy action now, no rude alarm, 
Called forth their powers, or nerved the stalwart arm ; 
3STo present danger used its strong control, 
To rouse the passions of the warrior's soul ; 
But all conspired to place Thought on her throne, 
And yield the reins of power to her alone. 

The past came slowly forth with all its train 
Of blissful scenes that ne'er might be again, 
Of mournful partings and convulsive sighs, 
Of pallid faces and of tearful eyes, 



74 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

Of aching hearts that heaved with sorrow's swell, 
And broken tones that sadly breathed, "Farewell ! " 
And in the silence of that lonely hour, 
Which bade the sternest own its wondrous power, 
A small, still voice whispered in every soul, 
Although each sought to burst from its control : 
" To-morrow night the moon, as fair as now, 
May shed her beams upon your death-sealed brow ! 
To-morrow night the stars may gild the wave 
While you, perchance, may till a soldier's grave ! 
To-morrow night your spirit may explore 
The boundless regions of an unknown shore ! 
To-morrow night may find you with the slain, 
And weeping love watch your return in vain ! " 

And yet not long such gloomy thoughts might rest 
Within the soldier's brave and gallant breast ; 
Not long the warrior, panting for the held 
And for the battle's horrid din, might yield 
His fearless spirit unto sorrow's sway, 
Or dread the issue of the coming day. 
The momentary sadness now was o'er, 
As with new hopes they neared the frowning shore, 
Landed in silence, and in stern array 
Pressed firmly forward on their dangerous way, 
Mounted the rugged rocks with footsteps slow, 
And left the murmuring river far below. 

From cliff to cliff the gallant army spring, 
Nor envy now the eagle's soaring wing ; 
They view their labors o'er, their object gain, 
And proudly stand upon the lovely plain ; 
Gaze down upon the awful scenes they've passed, 
Rejoicing that they've reached the heights at last. 
Hope lights each eye and fills each manly breast, 
Where wild desires and aspirations rest ; 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 75 

It bids each doubt and every shadow flee, 
And points thern on to certain victory ! 

The morning dawned ; the orient beams of light 
Fell on a strange and a romantic sight, — 
On glistening helmet and on nodding crest, 
On waving banner and on steel-clad breast. 
The city woke, — but woke to hear the cry, 
" To arms ! to arms ! the foe — the foe is nigh ! " 
She woke to hear the trumpet's wild alarms — 
She woke to hear the sound of clashing arms — 
She woke to view her confidence removed — 
She woke to view her trusted safety proved ; 
Her mighty bulwarks, long her pride and boast, 
All safely mounted by a British host — 
She woke to view her lofty ramparts yield, 
Her plains converted to a battle-field, 
Her gallant troops in wild disorder fly, 
The British banner floating to the sky, 
And proudly waving o'er the bloody plain, 
O'er heaps of dying and o'er heaps of slain. 

Boused from their hasty dreams, with brows aghast, 
On every hand the soldiers gather fast, 
Bind on their armor, seize the glittering sword, 
Form in a line, and at a simple word, 
With hurried steps advance toward the shore, 
With hasty gestures grasp the trembling oar, 
Across the river's bosom swiftly glide 
And safely land upon the other side. 
Drawn up in battle order now they stand, 
Waiting in silence for their chief's command ; 
Then onward move, with firm and stately tread, 
With waving plumes and ensigns proudly spread, 
With gleaming sword and with uplifted lance, 
Where brightly now the glistening sunbeams dance ; 



76 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

But long before those sunbeams shall decline 
Streams of dark blood shall tarnish all their shine ; 
Those beams shall strive to gild the steel in vain, 
For human gore the polished steel shall stain. 

The sun rose clear that morn ; with ardent glow 
He shed his beams alike o'er friend and foe. 
His golden hues the spreading fields adorn, 
Waving in beauty with the ripening corn ; 
Give richer colors to the lofty trees, 
That gently rustle in the morning breeze ; 
They gild the river's surface, calm and blue, 
And shine reflected in the sparkling dew. 

Oh, ye, who stand prepared for deadly strife, 
Thirsting for blood and for a brother's life, 
Behold the glories that around you lie, 
The harmony pervading earth and sky ! 
Behold the wondrous skill and power displayed 
In every leaf and every lowly blade ; 
On every hand behold the wondrous love 
Of Him who reigns in majesty above, — 
Who bids for man all nature sweetly smile, 
And sends his rain upon the just and vile ; 
His attribute is love ; and shall ye dare 
To take the life mercy and love would spare ? 
Shall ye destroy what he has formed to live, 
And take away what ye can never give ? 
Shall puny mortal claim the right his own 
Belonging to Omnipotence alone ? 
Bash man, forbear ! and stay the ready dart 
That seeks to lodge within thy brother's heart. 
But, no ; for mercy's voice, now hushed and still, 
No longer may the steel-clad bosom thrill ; 
And hearts that melted once at other's woe — 
That kindled once with friendship's fervent glow — 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 77 

That once had felt and owned the soothing power 
Of tender love — are callous in the hour 
When savage War makes bare his awful arm 
And peals in thunder tones his dread alarm. 

But there were some in those devoted bands 
O'er whom the blissful scenes of other lands 
Came rushi iig wildly ; and with piercing gaze 
They looked an instant on their boyhood's days ; 
Remembered well the hours that flew too fast, 
Remembered some with whom those hours were past ; 
And, 'mid the group of dear companions gay, 
Remembered well some whom they saw that day ; 
But sprang not forward with familiar grasp 
And friendly air, the proffered hand to clasp ; 
But looked away, and with a pang of pain 
Regretted that they e'er had met again ! 
For now they met, not as they met before — 
Xot as they used to meet in days of yore ; 
Not arm in arm, like brothers fondly tried, 
Whom they could trust and in whose love confide ; 
Met not as once with high and mutual aim, 
In classic halls to seek for future fame : 
But met as bitter foes, in deadly strife, 
Each wildly panting for the other's life ; 
With armies proud and swelling like the flood, 
To wreath their laurels in each other's blood ! 

They once were friends ; but France and England 
rose 
In sounding arms and they are hostile foes ! 
They once were friends ; but friendship may not shield 
The warrior's breast upon the battle-held ! 
They once were friends ; but, hark ! the cannon's roar 
Loudly proclaims that they are friends no more ! 
From rank to rank the stunning volley flies, 



78 CANADIAN WILD FLOWEKS. 

From rank to rank the groans of anguish rise ; 
Rank after rank is numbered with the slain ; 
Rank follows rank, and bleeds upon the plain. 

Bravely they fought ; with unabated zeal 
In human gore they dipped the shining steel ; 
Pressed o'er the heaps of dying and of dead, 
Where warriors groaned, and gallant heroes bled ; 
While from their lips, in quick and stifled breath 
Arose the cry of " Victory, or death." 

Louder and louder still the awful roar 
Pealed from the heights, and shook the frightened 

shore. 
Thick clouds of smoke enveloped friend and foe ; 
The volleyed thunder shook the depths below ; 
Mountain and echoing forest joined the cry, 
And distant hills gave back the same reply. 
With animating voice and waving hand 
The British leader cheered his gallant band, 
Pressed firmly forward where one endless tide 
Of woe and carnage reigned on every side, — 
Where streams of blood in crimson torrents rolled, — 
Where death smote down alike the young and old ; 
And where the thickest poured the deadly shot, 
The gallant Wolfe with daring valor fought. 

The dead and dying in his pathway lie, 
Before him ranks divide and squadrons fly ; 
With stalwart arm, and with unerring aim, 
He adds new glories to his former fame, 
Eeaps the reward of all his toil : for now 
Fresh laurels twine around his youthful brow. 
But what avail they ? for the fatal dart 
Of death has lodged within that hoping heart ! 
The lofty head that wore the waving crest, 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 79 

Now sadly droops upon the bleeding breast ; 
That mighty arm, upraised in power and pride, 
Falls feebly down, and casts its sword aside ; 
The laurel wreath entwines that brow in vain, 
For, lo ! the hero lies among the slain ! 

The French fought long with courage and with 
skill ; 
With iron arms and with an iron will 
Rushed bravely forward 'mid the battle's din, 
Resolved to die, or else the victory win ; 
Like soldiers true, fought firmly and fought well, 
And at their post like faithful soldiers fell. 

Deeper and deeper now the conflict grows ; 
Despair nerves these, and victory flushes those. 
'Tis the last struggle ; hark ! " They fly ! they fly ! " 
Pierces the depths, and rends the vaulted sky. 
'Tis the last struggle, for the beating drum 
Proclaims the conflict o'er, the victory won. 
The French in wild dismay and horror yield, 
And leave the British masters of the field. 

Far in the rear a dying warrior lay, 
While from his breast the life-blood ebbed away ; 
Attendants bent around to staunch the tide 
That flowed in torrents from his wounded side ; 
With wild convulsions came each panting breath, 
And those proud features wore the hue of death. 
His lips were sealed, his beaming eyes were dim, 
And strangely quivered every outstretched limb ; 
Unconscious now he seemed of love or hate, 
Unconscious now his spirit seemed to wait 
The awful summons that should bid it fly 
To worlds unknown, unseen by human eye. 
He seemed like one already with the dead ; 



80 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

When, lo ! he started — raised his drooping head ; 
With dying hand he grasped his trusty blade, 
With kindling eye the battle-field surveyed, 
Heard the triumphant shout, " They run ! they run!" 
Knew that the field was gained, the victory won. 
" Who run ? " he cried, with wildly throbbing heart, 
With gushing breast, and livid lips apart. 
" The French ! the French ! " — no more that warrior 

heard ; 
It was enough for him, that single word ; 
" I die contented ! " and his youthful head 
Fell feebly back ; the noble soul had fled. 

Oh, gallant Wolfe ! from o'er the dark blue sea 
There comes a wail — a bitter wail for thee ; 
Thy country mourns her warrior, true and brave, 
And yearning love weeps o'er thy lowly grave. 
But nothing now may break thy tranquil rest, 
Nothing disturb thy calm and quiet breast : 
Nor clashing arms, nor cannon's deafening roar, 
Nor sorrow's wail, may ever rouse thee more. 
But, when a voice, far louder than them all, 
Shall bid thee rise, thou must obey the call, 
And stand, bereft of earthly pride and power, 
Before thy Judge. God shield thee in that hour ! 

Remoter from the scene, with drooping head 
And nerveless arm, another warrior bled ! 
Death's seal upon that pallid brow was pressed; 
His icy hand lay on that heaving breast ; 
But thoughts of victory lent no soothing balm 
To cheer the spirit of the proud Montcalm ! 
He lived to see his bravest followers die ; 
He lived to see his troops disbanded fly ; 
Nor longer cared to live, but welcomed death, 
And with a smile resigned his fleeting breath ; 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 81 

Stretched his proud limbs, without a sigh or groan, 
And death had claimed the hero for his own. 

The strife was o'er, the dreadful combat past ; 
The echoing hills had found repose at last ; 
Carnage had done its work on every side, 
And even greedy death was satisfied ! 
The sun went clown ; how changed from yester night ! 
How changed his aspect, and how changed the sight 
On which he gazed ! Then his last golden beam 
Fell on a landscape fair — a quiet scene — 
Where now destruction reared its standard dread 
O'er shattered bodies and o'er severed head. 

Heap upon heap the pallid victims lay, 
Of racking pain and scorching thirst the prey ; 
In anguish rolled upon the bloody ground, 
And wider still they tore each gaping wound ; 
In concert joined their agonizing erics, 
Gnashed with their teeth and rolled their blood-shot 

eyes; 
With feeble groans they drew each painful breath, 
And racked with torments called aloud for death ! 
Far o'er the field in wild confusion rose 
Piles of the ghastly dead — of friends and foes — 
In death stretched side by side, mangled and cold 
While over all the sulphurous war-clouds rolled, 
In dark, dense columns mounted up on high, 
Tainting the air, polluting all the sky. 

Quebec was won ; and o'er each lofty tower 
The British banner streamed in pride and power ; 
Where the French eagle once her wings had spread 
The British lion reared his haughty head, 
And shook the conquered country with his roar ; 
The eagle flew in terror from the shore, 



82 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

With drooping plumage skimmed the western main, 
And, trembling, sought her native France again; 
While England, proud and potent, took the sway 
And waved her sceptre over Canada. 



SONG OF THE ENGLISH PEASANT GIRL 

[The marriage in 1858 of Prince Frederick William of Prus- 
sia to Victoria Adelaide Mary, eldest daughter of the Queen of 
England ; and the visit of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, to 
Canada, in 18G0, were events of sufficient magnitude to arouse 
the patriotism of our Canadian poetess, and we find reference 
made to them in this and the two following pieces.] 

I am but a rustic maiden 

Dwelling by the river side, 
But I'm happy as the Princess 

Who today becomes a bride. 

I am but a peasant's daughter, 

All his life in toil is spent, 
But he loves me as Prince Albert 

Loves his child, and I'm content. 

Though the Queen of many nations, 

Centre of each Royal scene, 
Better than I love my mother, 

Does the Princess love the Queen ? 

Are Prince Leopold and Arthur, 
Though within a palace bred, 

Dearer than my little brothers 
Playing 'neath the cottage shed ? 

There's a group of Royal sisters 

Clustering round the English throne, 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 83 

But I know they are not truer, 
Better sisters than mine own. 

Hark ! it is the trumpet sounding j 

At the Prince of Prussia's side 
Standeth now her Koyal Highness ; 

Oh, I would not be the bride ! 

For a manly voice hath whispered, 
" Dearer than my life thou art ! " 

What care I who rules a kingdom 
If I rule in Jamie's heart ? 

I am but a peasant's daughter, 

And the wealthy pass me by, 

But there's not in merry England 

A happier maid than I. 



A NATION'S DESIRE, 

God hear our fervent prayer, 
God bless the royal pair, 

'God save the Queen ! 
Guide them in all their ways, 
And may their wedded days 
Be ordered to thy praise ; 

God save the Queen ! 

The waves will boon divide 
Thee and thy home, young bride ; 

God save the Queen ! 
But over land and sea 
Warm hearts will follow thee, 
First rose of England's tree ; 

God save the Queen. 



84 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

CANADA'S WELCOME. 

A nation's hearty welcome take, 

Heir to a mighty throne ; 
Thrice Avelcome ! for old England's sake, 

Thy mother's, and thine own. 

From crowded street, from hillside green, 

From fair Canadian vales, 
The prayer goes up — God bless the Queen ! 

God bless the Prince of Wales ! 

The rich and poor, the great and small 

Their voices join as one ; 
Victoria's name is dear to all, 

So is Victoria's Son. 

Their tribute other queens have laid 

Upon the land and sea ; 
But never earthly monarch swayed 

So many hearts as she. 

And for her young and gallant heir 

A kindred love prevails ;„ 
God hear a nation's fervent prayer ! 

God bless the Prince of Wales ! 



OUR NATIVE LAND. 

[This was probably written in the early part of the year 
1861, before Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation had given 
deliverance to the captives, and when "the north star" was 
an object dear to many a slave who longed to breathe the 
free air of Canada. The Kev. E. H. Dewart says of it : "This 
spirited lyric is alike creditable to the talents, patriotism, and 
independence of its author. Its loyalty is an intelligent attain- 
ment, free from blind prejudice and crouching adulation." 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 85 

What land more beautiful than ours ? 

What other land more blest ? 
The South with all its wealth of flowers ? 

The prairies of the West ? 

Oh no ! there's not a fairer land 

Beneath yon azure dome — 
Where Peace holds Plenty by the hand, 

And Freedom finds a home. 

The slave who but her name hath heard, 

Repeats it day and night, 
And envies every little bird 

That takes its northward flight. 

As to the Polar star they turn 

Who brave a pathless sea : 
So the oppressed in secret yearn, 

Dear native land, for thee ! 

How many loving memories throng 

Round Britain's stormy coast ! 
Renowned in story and in song, 

Her glory is our boast. 

With loyal hearts we still abide 
Beneath her sheltering wing, — 

While with true patriot love and pride, 
To Canada we cling. 

We. wear no haughty tyrant's chain, — 

We bend no servile knee, 
When to the Mistress of the main 

We pledge our fealty. 

She binds us with the cords of love, — 
All others we disown ; 



86 CANADIAN "WILD FLOWERS. 

The rights we owe to God above, 
We yield to him alone. 

May He our future course direct 
By his unerring hand ; 

Our laws and liberties protect, 
And bless our native land. 



THE APPEAL 

[It will be remembered tbat 1S61 closed with an alarming 
prospect of war between England and the United States, grow- 
ing partly out of the arrest of Mason and Slidell on board the 
British steamship Trent. Of course had war been declared 
Canada would have been involved. On Christmas of that 
year therefore Miss Johnson wrote this appeal, which was 
published in a Canadian paper:] 

To prayer ! to prayer ! ye who love 

Your country's peace, your country's weal, 
To Him who rules supreme above, 

In this dark hour of peril kneel. 
To prayer ! to prayer ! before the cry 

" To arms ! " shall make your spirit quake, — 
And ere ye dream of danger nigh 

The dark portentous war-cloud break. 

So long hath Peace o'er hill and vale 

Waved her white banner to the breeze, 
We thought her smiles would never fail, 

And only heard from o'er the seas 
The murmur of an angry host, 

The clang of arms, the cannon's roar, — 
How false our hope ! how vain our boast ! 

War threatens our beloved shore. 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 87 

Great God ! to whom the nations seem 

Like dust that gathers on the scales, 
A drop within a mighty stream, 

A breath amid the northern gales, 
We pray, the hearts of men dispose 

So that the sounds of war may cease, 
And nations who should ne'er be foes 

Embrace, and pledge themselves to Peace. 



I LOVE THE LAND WHERE I WAS BORN. 

[The following poem appeared in the Sherbrooke (P. Q.) 
Gazette, sometime in the winter of 1S63, and was the last arti- 
cle prepared by Miss Johnson for the press. It is of special 
interest for having been written during the dark days of the 
war in the United States, and when the sympathy of England 
and Canada for the North was by many questioned.] 

I love the land where I was born, 

'Tis a noble land and good ; 
It has many a field of wheat and corn 

Where once the forest stood; 
It has many a town and city grand, 

Where the Savage used to roam ; 
To the poor of every other land 

It offers a peaceful home. 

I'm proud of the land where I was born, 

I'm proud of the Parent Isle, 
Whose banners float at the gates of morn, 

And the gates of eve the while. 
And my pulses leap with a joyous thrill, 

Wherever they take the lead, 
And join their hands with a hearty will 

In doing a noble deed. 



CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

There's another land that's dear to me, 

For it speaks the English tongue ; 
Like a shoot that springs from an old oak tree, 

From the English race it sprung. 
It has gained a mighty place on earth, 

And a mighty name has won ; 
It has given to sage and hero birth, 

And it boasts of Washington. 

But a blot, a dark and loathsome blot, 

Polluted that fair young land ; 
God waited till his wrath was hot, 

And he took his sword in hand ! 
He had heard the bitter wail of woe, 

He had heard the clanking chain — 
He rescued a nation years ago, 

He will rescue one again ! 

There's a gathering darkness in the sky, 

There's a tramp of hurrying feet ; 
There's a clang of arms, and a battle cry, 

And two hostile armies meet. 
They meet ! they charge ! 'tis a dreadful sight ! 

They wade through a gory sea ; 
It is life or death, it is wrong or right, 

It is freedom or slavery ! 

The nations stand with a wondering look, 

And list to the roar and din ; 
While History bends o'er an open book 

And steadily writes therein. 
And what will she say of my native land ? 

And what of the Parent Isle ? 
To the North, or South, did they give their hand, 

To which did they grant a smile ? 



PATKIOTIC POEMS. 89 

God speaks in the wind and earthquake now, 

And those who have ears may hear : 
To the King of kings let monarchs bow, 

And let all the earth draw near. 
Let the nations mark his holy laws, 

For though he keeps silence long, 
With fire and sword He will plead the cause 

Of the weak against the strong. 

Take heed and beware, my native land, — 

To thy ways and words take heed ! 
On the side of right and freedom stand, 

And say to the truth, « God speed ! " 
Let England herself a lesson learn, 

And let her take warning too ; 
Let her judge as she would be judged in turn, 

Let her nobly speak and do. 



THE WORLD TO COME, 

[Dear as Canada was to our authoress, dearer still to her 
heart was the true Father-Land, " the heavenly country " for 
which the children of faith in the olden time looked. Being 
bom again she bore such a relationship to the world to come 
that we may say of her, as she does of " the bride of Christ " : 
" The Cross was infinitely dearer to her than ten thousand 
worlds. It was twined around her heart with ties that noth- 
ing could over loose. She wept, but they were mingled tears 
of joy and sorrow: sorrow, for she mourned that her sins had 
cost the life of the Son of God; joy, for she knew that that 
sacrifice had made a perfect atonement for her. She knew 
that the Father had forgiven her iniquities, and that he would 
no longer remember her sins. As she clung to the Cross, a 
bright beam of glory shone around her; she raised her tearful 
eyes, and a crown of everlasting beauty met her admiring 



90 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

gaze : she knew that crown was reserved for her, and that on 
her bridal day her Lord would place it on her own brow." 
With such an experience and such a hope, we are not sur- 
prised that she should thus discourse :] 

The earth renewed presents a glorious scene : 
Mountains and valleys of perpetual green ; 
Delicious plains, and odoriferous bowers, 
Unfading forests, never-dying flowers ; 
Fruits that on fragrant trees irnniortal grow, 
Rivers that murmur sweetly as they flow. 
And gardens decked with everlasting spring, 
And shining warblers on the tireless wing. 
No howling tempest breaks the sweet repose, 
No piercing thorn surrounds the blushing rose, 
No sultry heat parches those blooming plains, 
No night is known where day forever reigns ; 
No thunder's roar, no lightning's vivid glare, 
No darkened sky, disturbs the beauty there. 

The royal city, the divine abode 

Of ransomed men and their eternal God, 

Rises 'mid blooming bowers and lofty trees, 

And waves its banners to the gentle breeze. 

Upon its pearly gates and shining walls 

A flood of everlasting glory falls, 

And tinges with its own delightful glow 

The lovely river murmuring below. 

That river from the living fountain springs, 

And, guided by the mighty King of kings, 

It wanders through the saints' celestial home, 

Where, robed in white, the ransomed nations roam 

Through golden streets, and gardens fair and free ; 

And on its banks stands life's unfading tree. 

All, all is bliss, and love, and glory there ; 

No pain, no sickness, no corroding care, 

No grief, no aching hearts, no tearful eyes, 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 91 

No broken bands, and there no severed ties ; 
For, o'er those broad and beautiful domains 
The Prince of peace, the great Iinmanuel reigns. 
The good have met, of every age and land, 
Around the throne a glorious throng they stand ; 
The crown of life, the blood-washed robes they wear, 
The conqueror's palms of victory they bear ; 
They bend the knee, they raise the joyful eye ; 
And hark ! Oh, hark ! that vast assembly cry : 
" Worthy the Lamb to be exalted thus, 
Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us ! " 
And angels with the ransomed millions sing, 
" Glory and honor to our God and King ! " 



<&m\mnntt. 



A WELCOME TO A TEMPERANCE PICNIC. 

Old and young are welcome here 

To the banquet we have spread : 
It will cause no bitter tear 

When the festal hour is fled ; 
It will break no mother's heart, 

For the deadly bowl we shun ! 
Welcome then — and when we part 

Blessings go with every one. 



|The following lines were also written by Miss Johnson for 
a temperance picnic, held in a grove near her father's house. 
They were read by her brother Edwin, now a lawyer in Stan- 
stead, P. Q.] 

From north and south, from east and west 
They come with banners gay ; 

Hope lights each eye and fills each breast, 
And all are friends to-day. 

The fairest of the sister band — 
With greeting most sincere, — 

Magog extends an eager hand, 
And bids you welcome here ! 

Hail, brothers in a noble cause, 
; Tis well we thus should meet : 

For every meeting closer draws 
The bonds of union sweet. 



TEMPERANCE. 93 

And we who battle for the right, 

And breathe the solemn vow 
To win or perish in the fight, 

Shonld be united now. 

Up, brothers, up ! to arms ! to arms ! 

The sword must needs be drawn : 
These are indeed no vain alarms, 

The foe is marching on ! 

And shall he blight our happy land 

With his polluting breath ? 
And scatter woe on every hand, 

And infamy and death ? 

By yonder mountain and by lake 

Which their approval show, — 
For each beloved Township's sake, 

We boldly answer — No ! 

Then let our banners be unfurled, 

'Mid scorn or 'mid applause ; 
We dare proclaim to all the world 

We love the temperance cause ! 



A LIFE-SCENE-THE LETTER, 

" I'm at work upon the railroad "- 
So the brother's letter ran, — 
" I'm at work upon the railroad, 
With the wages of a man. 

" I am up at peep of morning, 
And I only stop to eat ; 
But I bear it all extremely well 
Except the noon-day heat. 



94 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

" I do not feel much homesick, 

Though I think of other scenes, 
And what you have for dinner 
When I eat my pork and beans ! 

" 'Tis the time for pies and dumplings, 
Currant jelly and all that, 
For an hour in mother's pantry 
I'd give my bran-new hat. 

" You wrote about the chickens, 
About the crops and hay ; 
But not a word about the colts — 
The black one or the gray. 

" Tell father not to worry 
About that note at all : 
I shall have a hundred dollars 
I can send him in the fall. 

" You cannot think how proudly 
It makes my bosom swell, 
To think that I am toiling 
For those I love so well. 

" Tell mother I remember 
Her parting words to me ; 
And all that she has prayed for 
I hope I yet may be. 

" The workmen bring the bottle, 
They say, ' Just take a sip ; ' 
But, mother, not a single drop 
Shall ever touch my lip. 

" Here's a kiss for brother Charley — 
The little roguish elf, 



TEMPERANCE. 95 

I hope he'll not forget me, — 
And another for yourself. 

" How much I want to see you 
I will not try to tell ; 
I never knew I loved my home 
And all my friends so well ! 

" My lamp is burning dimly, 
So, sister dear, good-night ; 
Think often of your brother, 
And don't forget to write." 

The sister read the letter 

With a look of pride and joy ; 

And the father and the mother said, 
" God bless the darling boy ! " 



THE PLEDGE. 

[Whether the following is a real or a supposed case we know 
that in this fallen world of ours there have been many sadder 
scenes than the one depicted; for "who hath woe ? who hath 
sorrow ? who hath contentions ? who hath babbling ? who 
hath wounds without cause ? who hath redness of eyes ? 
They that tarry long at the wine; they that go to seek mixed 
wine. ... At the last it biteth like a serpent, and sting- 
eth like an adder."— Prov. 23 : 29-35.1 

Part I. 

All day the snow came silently to earth, 
Until the branches of the apple trees 
Bent lower than in autumn 'neath their weight 
Of glossy fruit : the youthful pines that stood, 
With leafless beech and maple interspersed, 



96 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

To speak of summer when all else that laughed 

In balmy air with summer should depart, 

Were robed in white, save where some little twig 

Of deepest verdure timidly looked forth, 

Like gentle Spring reclining in the arms 

Of stern old Winter. Silence reigned abroad ; 

There was no sun, no sky, but over all 

A dense dark mist which hid the blue beyond. 

The cottager had tarried long that day 

Within the village inn, and night drew near 

And found him at his glass ; then rose the wind 

And hurled the snow against the window pane. 

" Come, father, come " ; a little hand was laid 

Upon the father's arm, and into his 

A pair of pleading eyes looked gently up. 

" Come, father, come ; the wind begins to blow, 

And mother waits and watches all alone." 

He heeded not the warning ; to the bar 

He gaily turned, and cried, " Another glass ! " 

The glass was drained, and yet another filled, — 

And still the pleader cried, " Come, father, come." 

" The night is cold," one thoughtless comrade said 
" And you have far to walk ; here, drink, my boy. 
The child pushed back the tempter's hand, a glow 
Of indignation mantling cheek and brow, — 
"My mother says there's poison in the cup, 
And I will never drink," he firmly said. 
The father gave him an approving smile, 
Patted his rounded cheek, and stroked his curls, 
Then heaved a sigh — while o'er his manly face, 
Which had been handsome ere the fatal wine 
Disfigured it, a mournful shadow crept 
And darkened all his soul. " Come, father, come : ' 



TEMPERANCE. 97 

This time he listened, clasped the little hand, 
And they went forth together in the storm. 

The wind blew fiercely from the north and east, 
And called its forces from the neighboring hills ; 
They heard the summons, eager to obey, 
And swept along in one continuous roar. 
They caught the snow new-fallen from the earth 
And wove a sheet with which to blind the eyes 
Of those two wanderers on the frozen waste. 
Then night came on ; dark night came suddenly, 
And hid within its bosom bush and tree, 
And all that stood as waymarks to their home. 
The little winding path they trod that morn 
Was now a path no more ; yet had his brain 
Been clear as on the morn, his step as firm, 
The father might have found his homeward way. 
But oft the earth seemed reeling 'neath his feet, 
And once he fell, then nerved himself anew 
To struggle with the storm. 

" How long the way ! 
Dear father, are we almost home at last ? " 
Through teeth that chattered came the words half- 
formed, 
And drops of dew stole from his anxious eyes 
And turned to pearly ice-drops where they fell. 
And then the father took the patient boy 
"Within his arms ; he hugged him to his breast 
And tried with steady gaze to pierce the gloom 
If he might catch a glimpse of friendly lights, 
Or haply of the lamp that burned for him 
In his own cottage, fed by one who watched, 
And wept, and prayed, and turned the cottage door 
Upon its frosty hinges, till her fair cheek 
Grew purple with the cold ; he thought of this, 



98 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

And anguish and remorse smote heavily. 

But deeper grew the night ; and hours that seemed 

Like years to that distracted father passed. 

Nearer and nearer to his aching breast 

He held the child — for hope grew faint within ; 

Yet with that precious burden at his heart 

He could not quite despair. " If I have sinned, 

If I am seen in Heaven's all-searching light 

Black and polluted, yet my child is pure, 

And for the father's sin he should not die. 

Guard him, ye angels ! Save him, my God ! " 

Thus in the depths of his own soul he prayed, 

And chafed again the little trembling hands, 

And kissed the cheek so cold it spoke of death. 

" Let me kneel down, dear father ; let me pray, 

For I am weary — I will sleep awhile ; 

But ere I sleep, dear father, let me pray." 

And round his father's neck he twined his arms, 

And faintly whispered half his evening prayer. 

wretched father ! polluted man ! 

Is it the wind that makes thee shiver thus ? 

Pakt II. 

All day the snow came silently to earth, 

Until the path before the cottage door 

Was even with the drift on either side. 

No foot disturbed the mass of crystals white, 

But when the wind began to roar and shriek, 

And Night descended, with her sable wing 

Darkening the scene around, a pallid face 

Which had been pressed against the window pane 

For half an hour, came forth into the gloom. 

As looks the moon upon some stormy night 

When every star is quenched, and she alone 

Through rifted clouds peers forth and keeps her watch ; 



TEMPERANCE. 99 

So looked that wife and mother as she stood 

Upon the threshold gazing down the road 

With chattering teeth, and limbs that quaked with 

cold, 
Imagining she heard in every gust 
The voice and footfall of the man she loved. 

The hearth was piled with blazing logs that shed 

A cheerful glow upon the cottage walls ; 

The table spread for three before it stood, 

And yet the bread was all unbroken there, — 

And from the cottage to the garden gate 

A shivering form went flitting to and fro. 

Despair was on her cheek — and in her eye 

A mother's anguish : " But they might have seen 

How fierce a storm Avas gathering — might have stayed." 

And while the hope was fresh within her heart 

She hurried in, but only to return 

And take her station at the door again. 

*jl..B..tt.j|..M.g|.jfcjt 

The moments slowly lengthened into hours, 
The air grew chilly — for upon the hearth 
A few decaying embers smoked alone ; 
And pale with midnight vigils and with grief 
The watcher kj^elt to find relief in prayer. 
Then hark ! a sound — a footstep — and she starts I 
Her heart leaps to her throat, and with a bound 
She gains the cottage door — it opens wide. 

A cry of joy is trembling on her lips, 
For there the husband and the father stood. 
She stretched her eager arms to take the boy, 
But in the movement caught the father's eye 
Where horror sat, and told the dreadful tale 
He dared not trust his quivering lips to speak. 
" My boy is dead," she cried ; " my boy, my boy ! " 



100 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

And caught him wildly to her bursting heart. 

Cold on her bosom fell the little head 

Which had been pillowed there so oft in sleep,— 

And as she raised the frosty lid which veiled 

The violet eye beneath that lately laughed, 

So deep a groan escaped her pallid lips 

The guilty husband shuddered as he heard. 

" Too late," he muttered in a husky tone, 

And like an image of despair he stood, 

Until she called him weeping to her side, 

And murmured in a voice half choked with sobs : 

" Nay, not too late, my husband, not too late : 

God takes the child in mercy and in love, 

To save the father. Shall it not be so ? 

Say by the love we bore this precious child, 

Our own no longer — shall it not be so ? " 

The answer came, so low she scarcely heard, 

But 'twas enough, and she looked up and smiled t 



J>igft$ on mortality. 



WHAT IS YOUR LIFE ? 

Why do we mourn ? why do we sigh ? 

We who may to-morrow lie 

With folded hands and death-sealed eye ? 

A brave and gallant heart I knew : 
Like some young sturdy oak he grew 
Nursed by the sun, refreshed by dew. 

His hopes were bright and high their aim 
Above reproach or fear of shame 
None ever lightly spoke his name. 

He left our cottage blithe and gay, 
And as he left we heard him say, 
" I will return at close of day." 

We watched him as he passed along, 
He was so manly, brave and strong, 
Oh, was the pride we cherished wrong ? 

We thought of him as one designed 
To bless and elevate mankind, — 
And it was well that we were blind ! 

We did not see the gathering frown, — 
But long before the sun went down, 
A dreadful rumor filled the town. 

They told us gently he was dead, — 
I would not credit what they said : 
But when I knew it reason fled. 



102 CANADIAN WILD KLOWERS. 

I woke to real life once more ; 
My dream of happiness was o'er — 
I stood upon a desert shore. 

All day I heard the billows moan, 

All night I answered groan with groan, 

For I was desolate and lone. 

There came no message o'er the sea, 
No message from the lost to me, 
And I repined at God's decree. 

The bolt was spared — and o'er my head 
The bow of mercy shone instead, 
And I at last was comforted. 

Noav when the billows rage and roar, 
I think it shortly will be o'er, — 
'Tis calm upon the other shore. 

I look at Time as one who sees 
A pale leaf floating on the breeze 
Amid a grove of noble trees. 

It fills awhile a little nook ; 

To-day it is — to-morrow, look ! 

The great white Throne ! the open Book ! 

"We stand upon a narrow space, 

Eternity rolls on apace — 

Where next shall be our resting-place ? 



LIFE. 



As when the graceful bark, with spreading sails, 

Glides from the port into the open sea, 
Wafted along by soft and prosperous gales, 



SIGHS OX MORTALITY. 103 

Just as the rising sun bids darkness flee ; 
So, like that bark, in early youth are we, 

When first we launch upon the sea of life — 
Our hopes as bright, our youthful souls as free, 

The scene around with love and beauty rife. 
And all unknown to us its griefs, its cares and strife. 

The bark glides on ; but, see, the azure sky 

With dark and angry clouds is soon o'ercast ; 
The thunders roar, the forked lightnings fly, 

The billows beat, and howls the midnight blast ! 
The trembling vessel, with dismantled mast, 

The maddened waves have in their fury tossed, 
Until she lies a helpless wreck at last, 

Her plans all thwarted, and her hopes all crossed, 
Her guiding star obscured, and her direction lost. 

'Tis thus with life ; at times deemed most secure, 

When all seems calm, and beautiful, and fair, 
Dark rocks concealed, the easier to allure, 

The fragile bark in youth's bright morn ensnare ; 
And storms arise, and fierce the lightnings glare, 

And wild and high the raging billows roll, 
While sinks the heart a wreck in deep despair, 

Till, brightly o'er the dark and dreary pole, 
The Morning Star appears to the benighted soul ! 

It guides the bark across life's troubled sea, — 

It points the way unto the destined shore, 
Till, anchored in a blest eternity, 

It buffets with the howling storm no more. 
Be ours that star to guide us safely o'er ! 

To us, oh, may may its precious light be given ! 
And though the tempests beat and billows roar, 

And though we now by adverse winds are driven, 
We'll safely anchor soon in the blest port of Heaven ! 



104 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

THE SILENT ARMY. 

Life is the road to death. No one can lose the way 
— 'tis sure and plain. Whatever paths we take all 
end the same. Some walk in sunshine, and some be- 
neath a cloud; some gather flowers and some the 
thorn ; but at the gate all stand alike : nor poverty, 
nor wealth can enter there. 

To those who smile, and those who weep, 
To those who sing, and those who sigh, 

There comes the same long final sleep, — 
There comes the time when each must die. 

We watch the faces as they pass — 
We say of some, " How very fair " : 

Nor think how soon the churchyard grass 
Will thrive upon the beauty there. 

The objects of our love we take 

Close to our hearts and call them ours ! 

They are the gods we ne'er forsake, 

But crown them every morn with flowers. 

We dip them o'er and o'er again 

In love's immortal fount ; but when 

We find that all has been in vain, 
God shield us in our anguish then. 

The Death-drum beats, the roll is called, 
New names are on the list to-day : 

Some answer calm and unappalled 
As if 'twere pleasure to obey. 

For life to them was full of pain, 
Death opened wide the only door, 



SIGHS 02* MORTALITY. 105 

While others weep and plead in vain 
For just one little moment more. 

Through all the springs that come and go, 

At noon, at night, at early dawn, 
Through summer's heat and winter's snow, 

That silent army marches on ! 

On, on forever to the tomb ! 

They pitch no tents along the way ; 
On, on, it is the common doom, 

There's no return and no delay. 

They take no purse nor scrip with them 

However rich they were before ; 
The brow of beauty wears no gem, 

And slaves are men — and kings no more. 

From every land, and sea, and clime, 
Through all the ages that are gone, 

Through all the years of future time, 

That host has marched — will still march on. 

And shall we of to-morrow boast ? 

This very night may seal our doom 
And find us with that shadowy host, 

Whose line of march is for the tomb ! 

Death and the tomb ! oar hearts rebel, 
And wonder why such things should be ; 

Great God, who doeth all things well, 
We leave these mysteries with Thee ! 

Thou knowest why, and we shall know 
When raised in triumph from the grave, 

Eedeemed from death, and sin, and woe, 
Through Him who hath the power to save. 



106 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

THE DYING WARRIOR. 

A warrior lay, with, a heaving breast, 

On the field of the dying and dead j 
His cheek was pale and his lips compressed, 
And the fading light from the distant west 

Shone o'er his gory bed. 

The night came on, and the moon arose 

With her soft and tremulous glow ; 
She shed her light o'er friends and o'er foes, 
All sleeping together in dull repose 

On the battle-field below. 

The warrior gazed with a mournful sigh 

On the blue and the star-spangled dome ; 
"While tears shone bright in his sunken eye, 
And vivid thoughts like the lightning fly 
To his childhood's distant home. 

He thought of the mother who used to bead 
O'er his couch, when in sorrow and pain — 

Who to his complaints an ear would lend ; 

But alas ! he knew that that dearest friend 
Would never bend o'er him again. 

He thought of the scenes where once he strayed 

With his brothers in days of yore ; 
He thought of the stream, the peaceful glade, 
The cottage that stood in the dark green shade, 

With the vines around the door. 

He thought, with a pang of dark despair, 
'Twas the hour they all used to meet 

With grateful heart for the evening prayer ; 

He thought of the group that were gathered there ; 
He thought — of a vacant seat. 



SIGHS OX MORTALITY. 107 

He knew that a fervent prayer would rise 
For the loved and the long-absent one ; 
He knew that the tears would flow from their eyes, 
And his father's voice would be choked with sighs, 
As he prayed for his erring son. 

He knew for him they would all implore 

A renewed and a sanctified heart ; 
That when the toils of this life were o'er 
They all might embrace each other once more, 

Never, no never to part ! 

One trembling hand to his brow he pressed, 
And the tears of contrition he shed ; 

He implored for pardon, a home with the blest ; 

Then he wrapped his cloak round his gory breast, 
And the warrior's spirit fled ! 



ON SEEING A SKULL. 

This morning while examining a skull strange emo- 
tions took possession of me — such as I never before 
experienced. That senseless skull had once been the 
seat of deep thought and powerful passions ; beaming 
eyes once glistened brightly where now there was only 
a hollow space ; that head was once proudly erected, 
and the form that supported it once mingled in the 
busy scenes of life. But now what a change ! His 
very name is forgotten — himself but a handful of 
dust. mortals ! behold, and learn a lesson. His 
body has. long since mouldered away and mingled 
with the parent earth, — this skull alone remains ; and 



108 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

yet the time will surely come, and cannot be far dis- 
tant, when " the bones shall come together — bone to 
his bone " ; when the sinews and the flesh shall come 
upon them, the skin cover them, and the breatn enter- 
ing the body the dead shall live ! Will this skull 
come forward at "the resurrection of the just," or 

— : ? Oh, what an awful thought ! My very 

blood runs cold, and a shudder steals over me. 
thou great Mediator of mankind, intercede for me be- 
fore thy Father's throne, that ere it is everlastingly 
too late my unworthy name may be written in the 
Lamb's book of life. {July 5, 1852.) 



THOUGHTS ON DEATH, 

A bride but yesterday — all hope and love, — 
Flowers at her feet and cloudless skies above, 
Bright buds of promise twining round her brow, 
Approach — approach and gaze upon her now ! 
Come not in festal robes as once ye came, 
The bride is here but she is not the same 
As when ye saw her to the altar led, 
And called down blessings on her fair young head. 
The cheek is pale that with the rose could vie, 
There is no lustre in that rayless eye, 
Upon those pallid lips there is no breath, 
And she alas is now the bride of Death ! 
Henceforth what soul will ever dare to trust 
In things that crumble at a breath to dust ? 
And who would dream of earthly joy and bliss 
Taught by a lesson terrible as this ? 



SIGHS OX MORTALITY. 109 

Short-sighted mortal hastening to the tomb, 

Gaze on the scene, and realize thy doom ! 

All tongues and nations mingle with the clay ; 

Art thou less subject unto death than they ? 

The conquerors of the world have left their throne 

Before a mandate mightier than their own, — 

Bank, pride and power have sunk into the grave, 

And Csesar moulders with the meanest slave. 

Canst thou escape his all-destroying breath 

And bid defiance to the victor Death ? 

What strange enchantment has allured thine eyes ? 

Shake off the spell ! immortal soul, arise ! 

Oh, burst thy fetters ere it be too late, 

Kegain thy freedom and thy lost estate, — 

A thousand angels hover round thy track, 

They plead with thee, they long to lead thee back. 

The sacrifice too great ? bethink thee, soul ! 
A few more suns above thy head may roll, 
A few at most and thou wilt trembling stand 
Just on the borders of the spirit land. 
Who ever stood there calm and undismayed, 
And smiled to see all earthly prospects fade ? 
Not he who lived for things of time alone, 
Who won a name, a fortune or a throne ; 
Who added field to field, and store to store, 
And cried at last, " Oh, for one moment more ! " 
But he whose eye could pierce the dreary tomb, 
He who could say amid the gathering gloom, — 
" There is my home and there my Saviour stands 
With smiling brow and with extended hands ! " 
Would'st thou depart with that exulting cry, 
In glorious hope of immortality ? 
Thy heart all joy, and praise thy latest breath ? 
The holy life insures the happy death! 
Oh, thou wilt wonder in that trying hour 



110 CANADIAN "WILD FLOWERS. 

When home, and love, and friendship lose their power 
To cheer and comfort, thou could'st ever prize 
What then will sink to nothing in thine eyes — 
Time for repentance then ? beware ! beware ! 
How many souls are yearly shipwrecked there ! 
Like him of old they cry — " Go now thy way " — 
And keep repentance for their dying day ; 
But God is jealous of his honor still, 
Ho asks a ready mind, a hearty will, 
And those who through a life-time break his laws, 
Despite his mercy and his glorious cause, 
Who seek their own enjoyment and their ease, 
And only yield when death demandeth these, — 
May find too late they were deceived at last, 
And mourn the summer and the harvest past ! 

There's not in heaven itself a lovelier sight, 
Nor one Avhich angels view with more delight, 
Than youthful soldiers of Immanuel's cross, 
In life's glad morning counting all as loss, 
Since they have proved a dying Saviour's love, 
And placed their treasures and their hearts above. 
Let pleasure woo them with her syren voice, 
They heed her not — they've made a nobler choice ; 
Let others walk the shining path of fame, 
They dare to suffer poverty and shame, 
And turning from the world's enchanted bowers, 
To consecrate their youth and all their powers 
To Him they serve, and even here they find 
More real pleasure than they e'er resigned. 

The best they have in early life they bring 
A free-will offering to their God and King ; 
And in that hour when heart and flesh shall fail, 
Their song of triumph ringing through the vale, 
Will mingle with the anthems of the blest, 



SIGHS ON MORTALITY. Ill 

Who wait to hail them to their heavenly rest. 
Would'st thou depart with that exulting cry 
In glorious hope of immortality ? 
I read an answer in that beaming face, 
Behold thy Saviour — fly to his embrace ! 



THE BATTLE-FIELD. 

Strewn on the battle-plain, 
After the fight was done, 
And the bloody victory won, 

Were a thousand heaps of slain. 

Eider and horse there lay, 
But the war-steed neighed no more, 
And the gallant form he bore 

Upon that eventful day, 
Shattered, and marred, and ghastly pale, 
Had fallen beneath the deadly hail. 

Prince and peasant were there ! 
Rich and poor, master and slave, 
Wise and simple, timid and brave ; 

Old men with snow-white hair, 

Young men of noble birth, 
Boys just from their native shore, 
And the homes they shall see no more, 

Stretched on the cold, damp earth ; 
And mother and sister may watch in vain, 
They never shall press those lips again. 

Clasped in a fond embrace 
Was a young and gentle pair, 
And the love that was pictured there 

Made holy that dreadful place. 

Near by a chieftain bled, 



112 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

While his faithful dog still kept 
A mournful watch where he slept, 
And mourned above the dead, 
Then gazed on the pallid lips and brow : 
It is death — does he comprehend it now ? 

Just as they fell they lay — 
Struck down in the dreadful strife ; 
And the latest look they wore in life 

Death had not taken away : 

Some with a pleasant smile, 
Foeman with foemen at peace, 
Croat, and Frank, and Tyrolese, 

All in one ghastly pile, — 
From the Seine, the Po, and the Land of Song, 
Oh, where were the souls of that countless throng ? 

Gone to the bar of God ! 
Gone from the battle's din, 
Gone with their Aveight of sin, 

To the solemn bar of God ! 

Woe to ambition and pride ! 
Woe to the tyrant king 
Who dares from his subjects wring 

What God has never denied ! 
Aye, woe to him, for the record stands, 
And the blood of the slain is on his hands. 



DEAD AND FORGOT. 

Dead and forgot ! 
How sad the lot 
When wintry tempests blow 
To lie all cold 
'Neath the churchyard mould, 



SIGHS OX MORTALITY. 113 

And in a year or so 
To have our. very name unsaid, 

Unless it chance to fall 
From careless lips that say, « She's dead,"— 

She's dead, and that is all ! 

But sadder still 

That one should fill 
The place we thought our own : 

That a form more light, 

And an eye more bright 
Should guard our dear hearth-stone ; 
That where we strayed another's feet 

At morn and eve should roam, 
And another's voice — perchance more sweet — 
Make music in our home ! 

That where we locked 

Our hands and talked 
Amid our chosen flowers, 

The lips we pressed 

Should be caressed 
By other lips than ours, — 
That other eyes should watch for him, 

And other arms embrace, 
Until our image growing dim 
Yield to another's face. 

And this is love ! 

injured Dove ! 
Thy wings have many a stain : 

But pure and white 

In the Land of Light 
They shall be spread again ; 
The deep, true love our spirits crave 
Earth never has supplied ; 



114 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

Nor till we leave the dreary grave 
Shall we be satisfied. 



DEAR EMILY. 

Dear Emily, sweet Emily ! 

So early gone to rest, 
I love to think of thee as one 

Among the good and blest, — 
No shadow on thy radiant eye, 

No sorrow in thy breast. 

Dear Emily, sweet Emily ! 

I cannot call thee dead : 
"lis true I do not see thy face 

Nor hear thy gentle tread ; 
Yet in my heart of hearts, sweet friend, 

Thou never canst be dead. 

When by the solemn stream of death 

AVe parted long ago, 
Hoav little of the world Ave knew ! 

But I have lived to know 
How friendship fades, how love decays, 

How all things change below. 

Time changes some, and absence some, 

And envy — oh, the shame ! 
Of those who played together once 

Some rise to wealth and fame, 
While in the vale of poverty 

The rest remain the same. 

But nothing now can come between 
Thy heart and mine, sweet friend ! 



SIGHS ON MORTALITY. 115 

With every image of the past 

Thy memory will blend, 
And what thou wast in early life 

Thou wilt be to the end. 

I love to think — oh, call it not 

A fancy wild and vain — 
That thou hast seen and pitied me 

Through all these years of pain ; 
But I shall know how that has been 

When we two meet again. 

My bleeding feet have left their mark 

Wherever they have passed ; 
But now the sun is getting low, 

The shadows lengthen fast, 
And Emily, dear Emily, 

All will be well at last ! 



ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. 

She sleeps the quiet sleep of death and I survive. 
But for what purpose ? why was not I called first to 
explore the untried regions of eternity ? 'Tis known 
only to Him whose mighty arm often spares the hum- 
ble flower while the waving trees that stand around 
it are torn from their roots by the roaring tempest. 
She has gone before me, and yet how long may it be 
ere I shall follow her ? solemn thought ! — well 
might it sink deeply into my heart, and taking root 
there spring forth yielding fruits of repentance. ■ Soon 
may Death, the great enemy of mankind, add one 
more ghastly victim to the lifeless piles that lie 



116 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

heaped together in every clime and on every shore y 
and when my death-knell shall sound will it be the 
signal of a spirit wailing in the regions of the lost, or 
rejoicing in the bright realms of everlasting bliss ? 
It is for me, and me alone to decide. Perhaps it is 
for this that my life has been spared — that I might 
make a firm and decided choice ; and shall I still 
draw back ? shall I still hesitate and remain inactive ? 
No, no ; for " now is the accepted time, and now is 
the day of salvation." 



THE HEAVENLY HELPER. 

What strange lessons I am every day learning! 
Thank God for them. They are very unpleasant to 
human nature, but they are leading me to place less 
confidence in earthly love and more in heavenly. I 
have leaned too much upon an arm of flesh, and it is 
right I should suffer for it. Sweet Saviour, fold me 
in thine arms ; comfort me with thy love ; and as 
soon as thou seest best let me go and live with thee 
forever. 

All earthly hopes have passed away, 
Stay with me, my Saviour, stay : 
Thy blessed smile is all the light 
That breaks upon my dismal night. 

I cling to thee — thou must not go ; 
Oh, let me tell thee every woe 



SIGHS ON MORTALITY. 117 

And whisper in thy ready ear 

What other friends would frown to hear. 

Distressed in body and in mind, 
Diseased and wretched, poor and blind, 
I only care to see thy face, — 
I only sigh for thy embrace. 

I droop, I faint beneath the rod, 
It is so heavy, my God ! 
Spare me, I cry, in mercy spare, — 
But thou refusest still the prayer ! 

Sometimes I murmur and repine, 
Prefer my stubborn will to thine, 
And doubt if love or anger deal 
The dreadful anguish that I feel. 

Then suddenly before me stands, — 
With bleeding side, and feet, and hands, — 
The Lamb that groaned and died for me, 
That I might live eternally. 

Such love o'erwhelms me, and with shame 
I call upon thy holy name ; 
Forgive me, thou blessed One, 
And let thy will, not mine, be done. 

O my Eedeemer, Friend and Guide, 
Take health, take what thou wilt beside, 
But let me see the lovely face 
That makes a heaven of every place. 

Nay, turn not from my earnest prayer ! 
Thy smile can save me from despair ; 
The shadows deepen round my way, 
Stay with me, my Saviour, stay. 



118 CANADIAN WILD FLOWEKS. 

Who save thee, God, knoweth the human, heart ? 
Pity me, for thy rod is heavy. My earthly hopes are 
all torn and crushed, — oh, may they turn heaven-ward 
and there find support and nourishment. This is 
Father's discipline, shall I murmur ? Nay, but 
rather rejoice that he does not leave me to myself 
but deals with me as a child — chastening, rebuking, 
scourging and refining: preparing me by all these 
afllictions for the " rest that remaineth for the people 
of God." And sweet the rest will be after such a 
weary journey ! How I shall fold my hands upon the 
bosom that shall never again be troubled, and say in 
all sincerity : I thank thee, God, for the sweet that 
was mingled in my earthly cup, but more do I thank 
thee for the bitter. 



THE PROMISE. 

" In early life I'm called to part 
With all I hold so dear; 
Strong tendrils bind my yearning heart, 
But cannot keep me here. 

" I am resigned ; yet tears will fall, 
Sad thoughts steal over me ; 
And dost thou know that with them all 
Are mingling thoughts of thee ? 

" We have been friends in hopes and fears 
In joys and griefs the same — 
Since first we learned in childhood's years 
To lisp each other's name. 



SIGHS OX MORTALITY. 119 

" Iii quiet grove, in lonely dell, 
In meadows green and fair, 
Beside the stream Ave loved so well, 
If one then both were there. 

" Together Ave our plans have laid 
With hopeful brow and heart, — 
When roving 'neath the summer shade, 
But never thought to part. 

" The spring will come, the trees will wave 
As when we saw them last, 
But thou wilt linger by my grave, 
And muse upon the past. 

" Beyond the portals of the tomb 
I look Avith joyful eye : 
A glorious light dispels the gloom, 
'Tis not so hard to die. 

" There is a home of rest divine — 
A home prepared for me ; 
But hours of darkness will be thine, 
For this I cling to thee. 

" Hark ! 'tis the angel choirs above ; 
I've but one earthly care, — 
Oh, promise me by all our love 
That thou Avilt meet me there." 

That earnest look — I see it still, 

That voice — I hear it yet ; 
And death this aching heart shall chill 

Before it can forget. 

The floAvers have faded one by one, 
The summer birds are floAvn, 



120 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

And 'neath a cold autumnal sun 
I wander forth alone. 

The yellow leaves are falling fast 
Along the river side, — 

I watch them borne upon the blast, 
And on the swelling tide. 

I think how all things earthly fade, 
Then wipe the tears that flow, 

As memory brings the promise made 
So many years ago. 



THE DEAD CHRIST. 

The last expiring groan was hushed ; the beaming 
eye was closed — it wept no longer over the sins of a 
perverse race. Those gentle and lovely features were 
robed with the pallid hue of death, and the heart that 
melted at the sorrows of mankind beat no longer. 
The grave, the cold grave, rejoicingly closed its 
dreary portals upon his sacred form; and he, the 
lowly and despised Nazarene, who found no resting- 
place for his weary head, slept quietly in a borrowed 
sepulchre. 



THE COMPLAINT. 

Ah ! many springs have come and gone, 
And called me forth in vain ; 

Now winter folds the winding-sheet 
Round nature's breast a<?ain. 



SIGHS ON MORTALITY. 121 

Young hands have gathered bright, wild flowers, 

Young feet have trod the grass, 
But I have watched in solitude 

The mournful shadows pass. 

Young hands have gathered brighter flowers 

From wisdom's pleasant tree — 
But darker still the shadows fall, 

There are no flowers for me ! 

No flowers ! where shadows deepest lie 

Amid the wint'ry gloom, 
Thank God, I see with kindling eye 

The Eose of Sharon bloom ! 

It is enough — my earthly hopes 

Are fading one by one ; 
My God and my Kedeemer lives, 

And may his will be done. 

I know that in a better world 

I shall look back and say 
I never could have reached my home 

By any other way. 

And such a home ! no frightful dreams, 

No wakings to despair — 
No cries of — God remove the cup, 

Or give me strength to bear ! 

No pillows wet with burning tears, — 

No longings wild and vain 
To wander in the pleasant fields, 

Or dear old woods again ! 

But love and peace, and endless joy, 
And rest to me how strange ! 



122 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

Lord give me patience to await 
The happy, happy change ! 



THE MIXED CUP. 

Joy and sorrow, are they not mingled in every cup ? 
We call some happy, others unfortunate ; and so they 
appear to us. But could we draw aside the curtain 
that conceals the mysteries of the human heart what 
problems would be solved, and how often we should 
be lead to exclaim, " God dealeth justly : pain and 
pleasure are more equally distributed than we imag- 
ined " ! But this may not be. We judge according 
to appearances, and this is one great source of mis- 
ery ; for, in our grief, we imagine others are more 
favored than we, and for the blessings we do enjoy we 
are not thankful. Oh, the great mercy of God! 
What a wonder it is that he does not smite us to the 
earth when we dare murmur at his dealings ! 



I SHALL DEPART. 

When. the flowers of Summer die, 
When the birds of Summer fly, 
When the winds of Autumn sigh, 
I shall depart. 

When the mourning Earth receives 
Last of all the faded leaves, — 
When the Availing forest grieves, 
I shall depart. 



SIGHS OX MORTALITY. 123 

When are garnered grain and fruit, 
When all insect life is mute, 
I shall drop my broken lute ; 
I shall depart. 

When the fields are brown and bare, 
Nothing left that's good or fair, 
And the hoar-frost gathers there, 
I shall depart. 

Not with you, songsters, no ! 
To no Southern clime I go, — 
By a way none living know 
I shall depart. 

Many aching hearts may yearn, 
Many lamps till midnight burn, 
But I never shall return, 
When I depart. 

Trembling, fearing, sorely tried, 
Waiting for the ebbing tide, 
Who, oh ! who will be my guide 
When I depart ? 

Once the river cold and black 
Kolled its waves affrighted back, — 
I shall see a shining track 
When I depart. 

There my God and Saviour passed, 
He will be my guide at last, — 
Clinging to his merits fast, 
I shall depart. 

— Written in 1858. 



124 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

TIME FLIES. 

Years are coining, years are going, 
Be they fraught with joy or pain, — 

Like a river they are flowing 
To the everlasting main ! 

On the banks are thorns and roses, 
And we take of both a share 

Till the ocean round us closes, 

And we drop our anchor — where ? 

If the future were uncertain, 
If across the mighty deep, 

Brushing back the misty curtain 
Angel pinions did not sweep, — 

If there were no bright to-morrow 
For our day of toil and strife, 

Burdened with its weight of sorrow, 
What a curse were human life ! 

Locks are whitening, cheeks are paling, 
With each month and year that flies ; 

Youth and vigor both are failing, 
But the spirit never dies ! 

Short indeed is our probation, 
Dark and certain is the tomb, — 

But the Lamp of revelation 
Dissipates the fearful gloom. 

Oh, we take our life too sadly, 
Ever grieve and mourn too much, 

Turn to ashes what would gladly 
Turn to gold beneath our touch. 



SIGHS ON MORTALITY. 125 

"lis because that in our blindness 

We imagine God is blind, — 
"lis because we doubt his kindness, 

That we cannot be resigned. 

Nature cries amid the trials 

That beset our thorny path : 
" God outpoureth all the vials 

Of his anger and his wrath ! " 

Such complaints are more surprising 

Since the declaration runs : 
" If ye be without chastising, 

Then indeed ye are not sons." 

All our future course He seeth 

Better than we see our past, 
And whatever he decreeth 

We shall understand at last. 

Let us then in our affliction 

Meekly trust our gracious Lord, — 

Well assured his benediction 
Will ere long be our reward. 

Let us beautify the present, — 

There is much we all can do 
That will make the year more pleasant, 

For ourselves and others too. 



A VOICE FROM A SICK-ROOM. 

[At one time Miss Johnson seems to have entertained the 

idea of writing for publication a series of articles entitled 

"Voices from a Sick-room." Whether she ever wrote more 

than one or not I cannot say. The following is the only one 



126 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

we can find among her manuscripts, and it is so thrillingly in- 
teresting as to make us wish for more. It is dated Sept. 5, 
1859.] 

Draw the curtains — shut out the light of heaven ; 
the inner world is so full of darkness that the sun- 
shine of the outer world becomes painful by contrast. 
Hush, little bird! don't sing to-day. There — all is 
dark and still. Now, wretched heart, exult in thy 
wretchedness ; draw the dark, heavy curtains of de- 
spair around thee ; shut out the light of hope and 
love ; hush the voice of praise and thanksgiving. 
Think of all thou hast suffered ; think of thy present 
misery ; crowd the future with black-robed phantoms ; 
people every nook and corner with horrible faces, and 
over all let the thunder crash and bellow, and the 
winds moan and shriek, as they moan and shriek only 
when the great are dying. 

Ah, what sad havoc do sickness and pain make of 
the poor body ; but sadder still when they trample on 
the bright inhabitant within, and make it a slave to 
tremble at their bidding ! " Bring chains — bring 
chains," cries the fell destroyer ; and ere she has time 
to rally her forces around her, or even think of resist- 
ance, the poor Soul has become a helpless captive, 
and Disease wears a smile of triumph upon her ghastly 
cheek, and again lifts up her voice to shout "victory." 
And a complete victory it is: Self-control, Pride, 
Ambition — all are humbled; Hope is shrouded in 
sackcloth, and if she ever speaks it is only to whis- 
per : " There is one secret passage by which thou 



SIGHS 0-X MORTALITY". 127 

inayest yet escape, but it winds through the kingdom 
of Death and the Grave." Reason herself grows 
pale aud trembles, lest she lose her throne ; for the 
thousands of obedient servants, which have never be- 
fore disputed her authority, are all up in arms against 
her. Every nerve begins to quiver and vibrate ; the 
whole body is in commotion ; and no wonder the 
trembling Soul sits down amid the ruins of her for- 
mer self and makes the whole place doleful with her 
cries and lamentations. 

Don't chide her : she is no criminal waiting the 
demands of justice, but a prisoner of war, and there- 
fore should bo dealt kindly with. Don't gaze at her 
through her prison bars, as though she Avere a wild 
beast caged, or some curious object kept only for a 
show ; but go to her enveloped in the mantle of love, 
upon your lips the honey-dew of human kindness, and 
in your heart the melting tenderness of Christian affec- 
tion. Don't tell her she is escaping many trials and 
temptations to which she would be exposed if she 
came in contact with the busy world around her. Go 
to the imprisoned eagle, and, as he looks up longingly 
into the deep blue sky and beats his wings in agony, 
comfort him with the assurance that his wants are 
provided for, and he himself safe from the arts of the 
fowler ! Aye, tell this to the free-born eagle, but dis- 
gust not the ever-yearning, restless Soul with such 
mockeries. She may listen, but she laughs you to 
scorn in secret and prays Heaven to be delivered from 
such comforters. She knows her struggles and temp- 



128 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

tations are inward ; and she knows too, for that very 
reason, they are more terrible. There greater battles 
have been fought than the blood-dyed fields of Europe 
ever witnessed. Magentas and Solferinas fatten with 
the blood of heroes, but she carries on a never ending 
warfare " with principalities and powers " — the num- 
berless host of hell — and legions of native passions. 

Deal gently with her. Would you win her confi- 
dence ? There is but one passage to her affections. 
Speak that word — bolt and bar fly open : she takes 
you by the hand and welcomes you to her most sacred 
and secluded retreat. That word is sympathy: let 
her feel it in your tender embrace, see it in the glance 
of your eye, hear it in the modulation of your voice. 
It is for this she yearns and sighs, and refuses to be 
comforted where it is not. 

Bring her flowers — sweet, beautiful flowers. They 
are meet companions for her solitude. Gather blos- 
soms from the whitening apple-bough, violets from 
the meadow, dandelions from the wayside. She will 
fold them more tenderly to her bosom than the rarest 
plants, for their faces are old, familiar ones, and she 
imagines they wear a look of pity. 

But there are more precious things than human 
sympathy ; there are sweeter flowers than violets or 
roses. They bloom on the prayer-consecrated moun- 
tains of Judea, amid the ancient olives of Gethsem- 
ane, along the Dolorous Way trodden by the Man of 
Sorrows, beneath the shadows of the Cross, and 
around the borroAved Sepulchre. Oh, gather them 



SIGHS OST MORTALITY. 129 

with no sparing hand : there are enough for you and 
her— enough for every sorrowing heart in the uni- 
verse. Take them to the poor sufferer. Their fra- 
grance will make the lonely chamber like a garden of 
spices; the tearful eyes will turn heavenward, and 
the pale lips — tremulous with contrition will whisper, 
" Father, forgive me, for I knew not what I did when 
I murmured at thy dealings." Then a solemn hush 
will follow— a holy twilight of the soul,— as if the 
sorrows of earth were blending with the joys of heav- 
en, the pains of mortality with the blessedness of the 
angelic bards. Oh, these are the flowers for a sick- 
room ! How dreary and desolate does it seem with- 
out them ! The strong and healthy may live on, care- 
less and irreligious, but what would become of the 
poor, grief-stricken, despairing Soul if she could not 
repose quietly in the bosom her Beloved, and say with 
child-like simplicity, morning and evening, " Our 
Father who art in heaven ! " 



$jrop of fiop*. 



"HE GIVETH SONGS IN THE NIGHT." 

Gloriously the sun sinks behind the western hills. 
Half the sky seems on fire, and the other half 
wreathed with light fantastic clouds. All nature is 
beautiful — can I be sad ? Nay ; away with sadness, 
away with sorrow ; I will forget everything — my 
strangeness, my blasted hopes, and seek for happiness 
where hapjnness only is to be found, in the sacred 
Oracles of God.— July 14, 1852. 

God sometimes speaks in earthquake and in storm, 
But oftener in the " still small voice " of love : 
He urges men as loving fathers plead. 
God is our Father, yet we shun his face 
And hide ourselves when at the cool of day 
He walketh in the garden ! 

How sweet the thought that God, our heavenly 
Father, is omniscient. Our griefs are not hidden 
from him. He knows our hearts, and with all this 
knowledge he is good — so tender, so pitiful ! Oh, to 
love him as he deserves ! Oh, for a thousand tongues 
to sing his praises ! Tell the sick, tell the sorrowing, 
tell the broken-hearted of this God ; tell the wretched, 
the guilty, the wayward prodigal of this gracious 
Father. 






SONGS OF HOPE. 131 

THE LAST GOOD NIGHT. 

[In the day of health and prosperity everybody feels like 
singing, but "in the night" of adversity grace must produce 
the song of holy confidence and hope. Such a song is the fol- 
lowing, which has probably been printed oftener than any 
other of Miss Johnson's poems. It has appeared in several 
papers; finds a place in Dewart's "Selections from Canadian 
Poets"; w T as set to music by George F. Root, and appears in 
his "School for the Cabinet Organ." With many it has 
been a favorite.] 

Mother, good night ! my work is done, — 
I go to rest with the setting sun : 
But not to wake with the morning light, 
So, dearest mother, a long good night ! 

Father, good night ! the shadows glide 
Silently down to the river's side, — 
The river itself with stars is bright, 
So, dearest father, a long good night ! 

Sisters, good night ! the roses close 
Their dewy eyes for the night's repose — 
And a strange, damp mist obscures my sight, 
So, dearest sisters, a long good night ! 

Brothers, good night ! the sunset flush 
Has died away, and a midnight hush 
Has settled o'er plain and mountain hight, 
So, dearest brothers, a long good night ! 

Good night ! good night ! nay, do not weep : 
I'm weary of earth, I long to sleep — 
I shall wake again with the dawning light 
Of eternal day — good night, good night ! 



132 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

RETROSPECTIVE AND PROSPECTIVE. 

I remember tlie time when we went forth, arm in 
arm over the newly mown fields, scaring the grass- 
hoppers from our pathway, with our baskets on our 
arms, to gather the blueberries that hung in clusters 
on their slender stalks. But thou art gone now to the 
fairer fields of paradise, to pluck sweeter fruit than 
ever ripened here. Thou art gone ! The blueberry 
bushes have fallen long ago before the scythe ; the 
field has changed its appearance ; and as for me, the 
breezes woo me forth in vain — I cannot go. Sickness 
and sorrow have come between me and the love of 
earth ; they have cast a dark shadow over what I once 
thought fair. But as there can be no shadow without 
a light beyond it I have caught bright glimpses of a 
better home — a land of life and glory. 



HOPE. 



[We have no clue to the time when this was written. It is 
imperfect: the second verse is not complete in the copy. But 
is it not true to life so far as earthly hope is concerned ? Of 
" the hope of the gospel " our songstress would speak differ- 
ently.! 

What a syren is Hope — what a charming deceiver ! 
She whispers so blandly you can but believe her ; 
The garments of Truth and of Reason she stealeth 
And every deformity thus she concealeth. 

When down in the valley I'm talking with Sorrow 
She comes with a song — all its burden to-wiorrow ; 
She mocks my companion ..... 



SOXGS OF HOPE. 133 

Then she beckons me np to the top of a mountain ; 
She brings me a draught from a clear, sparkling fount- 
ain, 
And talks of the beautiful prospect before us 
Till ere I'm aware the dark night settles o'er us. 

Sometimes in my anger I try to elude her ; 

I call her a jade and an idle intruder; 

But she kisses, caresses, and coaxes, and flatters 

Till I build me a castle the next zephyr shatters. 

When I firmly resolve I will listen no longer, 
Than my will or my reason somehow she is stronger : 
I chide her, deride her, despise her and doubt her, 
And yet it is true I can't live without her ! 



EARTH NOT THE CHRISTIAN'S HOME. 

Earth, with all thy grief and sorrow, 
And thy changes of to-morrow ; 
With thy woe and with thy parting, 
With thy tears of anguish starting, 
With thy countless heart-strings breaking, 
With thy loved and lost forsaking, 
With thy famished millions sighing, 
With thy scenes of dead and dying, 
With thy graveyards without number, 
Where the old and youthful slumber ; 
Earth, oh, earth ! thus dark and dreary, 
Cold, and sad, and worn, and weary, 
Thou art not my home ! 

Earth, oh, earth ! with all thy slaughter 
And thy streams of blood like water 
O'er the field of battle gushing, 



134 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

Where the mighty armies rushing, 
Reckless of all human feeling, 
With the war trump loudly pealing, 
And the gallant banners flying, 
Trample on the dead and dying ; 
Where the foe, the friend, the brother, 
Bathed in blood sleep by each other ; 
Earth, oh, earth ! thus dark and gory, 
Blood and tears make up thy story, 
Thou art not my home ! 

Earth, with all thy scenes of anguish, 
Where the poor and starving languish, 
To the proud oppressor bending, 
And their cries for mercy blending ; 
Where the slave with bosom swelling, 
Which despair has made its dwelling, 
And the scalding tear-drops falling — 
Sight to human hearts appalling — 
Strives, but strives in vain to sever 
Fetters that must bind him ever ; 
Earth, oh, earth ! with each possession 
Sold to tyrants and oppression, 
Thou art not my home ! 

Earth, oh, earth ! thy brightest treasures, 
Like thy hopes and like thy pleasures, 
Wintry winds are daily blighting ; 
Pain, and woe, and death uniting, 
Youth and love and beauty crushing, 
And the sweetest voices hushing ; 
Bicli and poor, and old and blooming, 
To one common mansion dooming ; 
While the cries of every nation 
M ingle with those of creation ; 
Earth, oh, earth ! thus dark and dreary, 



SONGS OF HOPE. 135 

Cold, and sad, and worn and weary, 
Thou art not rny home ! 

Earth, oh, earth ! though dark and gory, 
In thy pristine state of glory 
Angels came upon thee gazing, 
Songs of love and rapture raising ; 
For thou then wast bright and beaming, 
With the sunlight on thee streaming, 
With thy crystal waters laving 
Shores with fadeless forests waving ; 
With thy plains and with thy mountains, 
With thy ever-gushing fountains ; 
Earth, oh, earth ! once fair and holy, 
Fallen, fallen, and so lowly ; 
Thou art not my home ! 

Earth, oh, earth ! bowed down by sorrow. 
Cheer thee, for there comes a morrow ; 
Night and clouds, and gloom dispersing, 
And thyself, earth, immersing 
In a flood of light undying ; 
When the curse upon thee lying, 
With its thousand woes attending, 
Death, and pain, and bosoms rending, 
Partings that the heart-strings sever, 
Will be banished and forever, — 
Earth, oh, earth ! renewed in glory, 
Love and joy make up the story ; 
Oh, be thou my home ! 

Earth, although thou seem'st forsaken, 
Yet a note of praise awaken ; 
For the angels, lowly bending 
Round the throne of light unending, 
Gaze upon thee, sad and groaning, 



136 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

Listen to thy bitter moaning ; 
Thou hast scenes to them amazing, 
While on Calvary's mountain gazing ; 
And they smile on every nation 
Purchased with so great salvation, — 
Earth, oh, earth, ! renewed in glory, 
Angels shall rehearse thy story ; 
Oh, be thou my home ! 

Earth, the morn will soon break o'er thee, 
And thy Saviour will restore thee ; 
Ear more bright and far more blooming, 
And more glorious robes assuming 
Than when first, o'er Eden ringing, 
Angel-voices were heard singing ; 
Eor thy King himself descending, 
Heaven and earth together blending, 
With his saints a countless number, 
Those who live and those who slumber, 
Over thee will reign victorious, — 
Earth, oh, earth, thus bright and glorious,^ 
Be thou then my home ! 



"WE SORROW NOT AS OTHERS WITHOUT HOPE." 

While looking over an old manuscript, written by 
one who is long since passed from time into eternity, 
I met with the following lines : " It is six years to-day 
since my Elsa died, and five months since my Amanda 
left me forever. They sleep in the grave, and there 
they will remain through endless years." He then 
went on, in strains mournful and tender, and with all 
a father's sorrow deplored his loss. I could not won- 



songs or hope. 137 

der that he wept the tears of anguish and despair if, 
as he said, they are to remain in the dark tomb 
through endless j^ears. The glorious Resurrection 
morning was unknown to him. He saw only the 
tomb, and considered not that there is One who holds 
the keys of the grave, and who will soon burst the 
icy bars of death and bring forth the righteous to im- 
mortality. Truly that morning has charms for the 
Christian. God grant that if I am called to slumber 
for a while I may "have part in the first resurrec- 
tion."— June 22, 1852. 



THE MESSENGER BIRD. 

Oli, fly away to the better land, 
Thou bird of the snowy wing ! 

Oh, fly away to the blood-washed band, 
And hear the songs they sing ! 

But bear a message from us, dove, 
To that bright and happy throng ; 

For we have friends whom we dearly love, 
Who swell the Conqueror's song. 

Oh tell them our hearts are sad and lone, 
Our homes not bright as of yore ; 

For we miss the soft, the soothing tone 
Of the friends we loved before. 

Oh tell them we sigh for the better land, 
For earth has grown sad and chill ; 

And we long rejoicing with them to stand 
On the heights of Zion's hill. 



138 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

Oil tell thern we long to share their rest, 

Afar from all earthly strife ; 
We long to lean on our Saviour's breast, 

And roam by the tree of life. 

Oh tell them our fondest hopes are there, 

For our earthly hopes are o'er ; 
And we sigh for the land all bright and fair — 

We sigh for the deathless shore. 

Then fly away to the better land, 

Thou bird of the snowy wing ! 
Oh fly away to the blood-washed band, 

And hear the songs they sing. 

And then return with the speed of love, 
When the night grows dark and chill, 

And tell us, oh, tell us, thou white-winged dove ! 
Do they love, do they love us still ? 

We know there is One, in that blissful home, 
Who loves and remembers us yet ; 

Though weary and sorrowful now we roam, 
We know that he will not forget. 

We'll trust him then, the great and the strong ; 

By his own almighty hand 
He'll bring us soon with the blood-washed throng 

To the bright, the better land. 



OUR SHIP IS HOMEWARD BOUND, 

What though the angry waves are high, 
And darkness reigns around ? 

Let hope be bright in every eye, 
Our ship is homeward bound ! 



SONGS OF HOPE. 139 

What though nor moon nor stars appear 

Amid the gloom profound, 
Why should we yield a place to fear ? 

Our ship is homeward bound! 

What though the lightnings glare above, 

And deaf'ning thunders roar, 
When with the eye of faith and love 

We view the distant shore ? 

We know that friends are waiting there 

We loved in life before ; 
And angel forms all bright and fair 

Line the eternal shore. 

We've often longed with them to bow 

At our Redeemer's feet, — 
He loved us first, we love Him now, 

Then let the billows beat ! 

And let them bear our hopes away, 

Although they once were sweet, 
We catch a glimpse of coming day — 

Oh, let the billows beat ! 

The coward peers with trembling form 

Into the gloom profound, 
But we can smile to view the storm, 

Our ship is homeward bound ! 

And though for us on life's dark wave 

No anchorage be found, — 
Oh, let our hearts be true and brave, 

Our ship is homeward bound ! 



140 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

MIDNIGHT. 

Shades of night have gathered round, 
'Tis the hour of gloom profound ; 
"lis the hour when many sleep, 
'Tis the hour when many weep, 
Over pleasures buried deep. 

Faces smiling through the day, 
Lips that told a spirit gay, 
Eyes that beamed as with delight, 
Now concealed from human sight, 
Put aside the mask to-night. 

Tossing on the couch of pain, 
Seeking rest but all in vain, 
With the dark and dreary tomb 
Oft appearing through the gloom, 
Weary sufferers wait their doom ! 

Bright and golden dreams have some : 

On their airy wings they come, 

Giving fancy leave to soar 

To the happy scenes of yore, — 

Or to some untraveled shore. 

By the hearth he holds so dear, 
Softly ringing in his ear 
Gentle voices, faces bright 
Bursting on his gladdened sight, — 
Sits the wanderer to-night. 

Clasping hands in holy trust 
Long since mouldered into dust, — 
Gazing into death-sealed eyes, 
With a look of sweet surprise, 
Every tear the mourner dries. 



SONGS OF HOPE. 141 

From some rugged mountain high 
Making journeys through the sky, 
Or in amaranthine bowers 
Talking with the birds and flowers, 
Poets spend the midnight hours. 

Phantoms that by day elude, 
Plying ever Avhen pursued, — 
Like the desert mirage bright, 
Pilled with joy and with delight 
Dreamers fondly clasp to-night. 

Oh, that morning's early beam 
Should dissolve the blissful dream ! 
Oh, that love and hope should fly 
Like the mist in yonder sky, 
When the burning sun is high ! 

There's a morning yet to break, 
When the sleepers shall awake 
Prom the couch and from the grave, 
Prom the mountain and the cave, 
From beneath the ocean wave. 

Then the dream of life is o'er, 
Then they wake to sleep no more ; 
Then all earthly hopes shall fly 
Like the mist in yonder sky, — 
And that morning draweth nigh ! 



EASTER SUNDAY. 

The old, the young, and the middle-aged all meet 
to-day in the house of prayer. From a thousand 
churches in our own and other lands the voice of 



142 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

praise and thanksgiving goes up to heaven — " The 
Lord is risen ! " Oh glorious tidings ! " The Lord is 
risen indeed/' and hath appeared to Peter ! aye, and 
to Mary also, — the poor sinner whose touch would 
have been profanation to the Pharisees of our own 
times. And still more wonderful, He hath appeared 
to Thomas — to Thomas the infidel, who laughed at 
the story of the resurrection ! 



THE RISEN REDEEMER. 

Rejoice now, sorrowing bride, for he sleeps no 
longer. Let thy glad songs of praise and adoration 
reach the skies, for thy Lord is not among the dead — 
he is risen. "Rejoice greatly, daughter of Zion! 
shout, daughter of Jerusalem ! " for thy Saviour 
has burst the iron bands of death and come forth a 
mighty conqueror. For thy sins he laid himself down 
in the icy tomb ; he rises again for thy justification. 
For thy iniquities he suffered, died and was buried : 
he comes forth again that thou mayest be a sharer of 
his glory. He has hallowed the dreary tomb by his 
own dear presence, and now he has ascended to his 
Father and your Father, to his God and your God. 
He has taken his seat at the right hand of the Maj- 
esty on high, and there, despairing soul, trembling 
under the burden of sin, he pleads for thee (Heb. 7 : 
25). He points to the cross on Calvary, dripping 
with his own precious blood, and in a voice of tender 
compassion exclaims : " Father, I died for that 



SONGS OF HOPE. 143 

wretched sinner ; spare, oh spare him for my sake ! " 
He has entered into the holy place by his own blood, 
having obtained eternal redemption for thee, daugh- 
ter of Zion. 



DOST THOU REMEMBER ME? 

Thou whose footsteps are unknown, 

Whose path is on the sea, — 
Whose footstool earth, and heaven whose throne, 

Dost Thou remember me ? 

Thou whom winds and waves obey, 

At whose supreme command 
The shining worlds pursue their way, 

Or in their orbits stand, — 

Thou at whose touch the hills disperse, 

And burning mountains flee, 
Thou Kuler of the Universe, 

Dost Thou remember me ? 

This world though fallen still is thine, 

And dearer far to-day 
Than all the countless orbs that shine 

But never went astray. 

For here the blessed Son of God 

Was born, and wept, and died ; 
Our valleys and our hills he trod, 

And they are sanctified. 

On Him my guilty soul relies, 

Through him I come to thee ; 
Thou dost accept my sacrifice, 

Thou dost remember me ! 



144 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

'TIS l-BE NOT AFRAID, 

Dark hung the clouds o'er Galilee ; 
A lonely bark was on the sea, 

Where wild the billows played ; 
Deep terror filled each trembling frame, 
When suddenly the accents came, 

" 'T is I— be not afraid !" 

A martyr stood with tranquil air ; 
He saw the stake, the fetters there, 

The fagots all arrayed ; 
But, though such darkness reigned around, 
He caught the sweet, the cheering sound, 

" >T is I— be not afraid ! " 

A weary pilgrim roamed alone ; 

For him was breathed no friendly tone, 

No friendly hand brought aid ; 
But through the gloom so dark and drear, 
A gentle whisper reached his ear, 

"'Tis I— be not afraid ! " 

A mother knelt in anguish wild 
Beside a loved, a dying child, 

And tears in torrents strayed ; 
A soothing voice breathed to her heart, 
In tones that bade despair depart, 

"'Tis I— be not afraid ! " 

Upon a bed of pain and death 

A Christian faintly drew his breath, 

With spirit half dismayed ; 
He heard a soft, a tender voice — 
It caused that spirit to rejoice — 

« 'T is I— be not afraid ! " 



SONGS OF HOPE. 145 

A penitent with streaming eye 
Kaised unto heaven his doleful cry, 

And fervently he prayed ; 
A brilliant light around him shone, 
And with it came a heavenly tone, 

"'T is I— be not afraid ! " 

And when the trump from yonder skies 
Shall bid the silent dead arise ; 

When suns and stars shall fade ; 
When thunders roar, and mountains fall ; 
The saints shall hear above them all, 

" 'T is I— be not afraid ! " 



THE ONLY PERFECT ONE, 

I have just finished "D'Aubigne's History of the 
Reformation." How man)' noble characters are here 
brought to light ! how many fervent Christians — how 
many lofty souls — how many holy hearts ! The firm 
and undaunted Luther, the gentle Melancthon, the 
brave and courageous Zwingle, the mild Ecolampadi- 
us, the zealous and fiery Farel — and a host of others 
equally noble in the Master's cause. And yet they 
all had their faults ; not one of them was perfect. 
Though we may sometimes feel to deplore their fail- 
ings, yet surely it is a comfort to the poor Christian, 
beset with temptations and wandering daily from the 
straight and narrow path, to look back upon the lives 
of the best of earth's sons — the noblest and the holi- 
est, — and behold that even they sometimes went 



146 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

astray. It buoys up his soul with new hope and cour- 
age. It bids it cast aside every thought of justifica- 
tion save by faith in Jesus Christ. It increases that 
faith, and directs the weary pilgrim to the feet of 
Him who alone is holy and perfect. — June 30, 1852. 



THE DYING CHRISTIAN. 

I have heard music from a far-off laud, 

Where sighs and sad laments are never heard ; 

Where friends can meet and clasp each other's hand, 
But ne'er give utterance to that dreadful word 

Which has wrung hearts, and like a funeral knell 

Has tolled for our departed hopes — "Farewell!" 

I have had visions of that blessed clime, 

Where fadeless flowers and fruits immortal grow — 
Par, far beyond the troubled waves of Time, 

Where streams of living waters sparkling flow ; 
And while a pilgrim here I sadly roam, 
I love to call that blissful land my home. 

And often with the passing breeze I hear 
A sweet, a sad, perchance a warning tone : 

" Heaven calls for thee," falls on my willing ear ; 
Oh ! can the glorious message be mine own ? 

Can it be mine, unworthy child of clay, 

To win the realms of everlasting day ? 

Through Him who died, through Him who rose again, 
Through Him who lives, and lives forevermore, 

I may at last that blissful rest obtain, 
And I may stand upon the lovely shore 

Where youth and health on every check shall bloom, 

Beyond the reach of death and of the tomb. 



SO^GS OF HOPE. 147 

Then hail sweet voice ! sweet message to my heart ! 

Hail, land of love and home of endless peace ! 
Ye ties that bind me here, oh ! quickly part, 

And shout, my soul, for joy to find release, 
With angels meet and sing in sweet accord, 
Fore\ er blest, forever with the Lord ! 



THE REQUEST. 

Come sit here close beside me and take my hand in 

thine, 
And tell me of the happy home I think will soon be 

mine ; 
Oh, tell me of the river and of the garden fair, 
And of the tree of life that waves its healing branches 

there ! 

And tell me of the love of God who gave his only Son 
To die and suffer on the cross for deeds that I have 

done ; 
And tell to me the holy words the blessed Jesus spake 
When from the courts of Heaven he came, an exile 

for my sake. 

I love to hear how Mary sat at the Eedeemer's feet,— 
I wish I could have been there too, I would have 

shared her seat ; 
I envy much the little group that met at Martha's 

board 
To listen to the gentle voice of him whom they 

adored. 

I envy those rude fishermen who rowed him o'er the 

sea, 
Who walked with him and talked with him as I now 

talk to thee ; 



148 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

I envy those who brought their sick, just at the close 

of day, 
That they might be restored to health when Jesus 

passed that way. 

Had I been living then I know I would have joined 
the crowd, — 

" Have mercy, oh have mercy, Lord ! " I would have 
cried aloud. 

■Thou sayest that I still may go and tell him all my 
grief, 

And go I will; " Lord, I believe, help thou my unbe- 
lief." 

I know my heart is very hard, I feel the load within ; 
But in the blood of Jesus Christ I wash away my sin ; 
I lay my burden at his feet while to his cross I cling ; 
I do so long to hear him speak death seems a blessed 
thing. 

Now kneel here close beside me and lift thy voice in 

prayer 
That I may say his will be done whatever I may bear, 
Oh, I should love to work for him, if that could be his 

will, 
But pray that I may be resigned — may suffer and be 

still 



COMPLETE IN HIM. 

Does not the blood of Jesus alone cleanse from all 
sin ? — who but sinners are invited to the great Foun- 
tain ? Are my robes filthy ? — where can they be 
made white but in the blood of the Lamb ? Is my 



SONGS OF HOPE. 149 

heart obdurate and unbelieving ? — who can soften and 
subdue it save the Almighty One who listens to its 
throbbings and knows all its trouble ? Am I tempt- 
ed, sorely tempted ? — who can pity like Him who in 
the wilderness met face to face the great enemy, the 
great tempter of mankind ? - Ah, my poor heart aches 
when I think of all that is in the past and of all the 
future may have in store for me. But is there no 
balm in Gilead ? is there no physician there ? Will 
He not take me by the hand and whisper, " Be of 
good cheer ; thy sins are forgiven thee " ? Will He 
not heal thy wounds by pouring into them the oil of 
consolation ? He has promised to do this — yea, much 
more than this ; and will he for the first time in the 
history of mankind fail to perform what he has 
spoken ? Nay, nay, and I will doubt no longer. . . . 
Jesus, my Mediator, my Redeemer, have compas- 
sion upon me, and declare thyself to the Father as 
the Lord my righteousness. — Sejrt. 1860. 



TRUST IN GOD, 

Trust in God ! He will direct thee, 
He will love and will protect thee ; 

Lean upon his mighty arm, 

Fear no danger, fear no harm. 
Trust him for his grace and power ; 
Trust him in each trying hour. 

Trust in God whate'er betide thee ! 

Trust him thousrh he sometimes chide thee 



150 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

'Tis in love to lead thee back 
When thou turnest from the track. 
Trust him, cling to him forever, 
And he will desert thee — never. 

Trust in God, the Bock of ages ! 

Louder still the tempest rages, 

Earthquakes heave and thunders roar, 
Mountain surges lash the shore, 

Nations tremble — hark ! the warning, 

"Comes the night, and comes the morning." 

Watchmen on the walls of Zion 
Catch a glimpse of Judah's Lion ! 
Man of sorrows, Lamb once slain, 
Comes as King of kings to reign, 
And from long oppressed Creation, 
Break the anthems of salvation. 

Trust in God ! the morn awaits thee, 
And while such a hope elates thee, 

Wilt thou fold thy hands in ease ? 

No, the golden moments seize ! 
Lay thy gift upon the altar, 
Thou hast duties — do not falter ! 



A PARADOX, 

Alone, and yet not alone am I ; sad, and yet not 
sad. No human form intrudes upon my solitude, and 
yet He who fills creation with himself is surely with 
me ; sad I am, for there are many earthly thoughts 
that contribute to cast a shade upon my soul, and yet 
heavenly thoughts soon dispel such mournful ones. 



SONGS OF HOPE. 151 

Oh, that my whole affection might be placed upon 
things above, and not on things on the earth ! Why 
should my heart be gloomy when such a glorious 
prospect opens before me ? — a world of immortal 
beauty, enlivened by the presence of God himself, and 
a glorious city, even the New Jerusalem. " Fly, lin- 
gering moments, fly away, and bring that long expect- 
ed day " when Christ shall appear in glory to take his 
weary children home. 



"THOU SHALT KNOW HEREAFTER," 

The wind has ceased— how still and tranquil all ! 
The ghastly moon still shines upon the wall ; 
While other eyes are closed why do I weep ? 
Begone, ye phantoms, welcome, balmy sleep ! 
And bear me to the shadowy land of dreams 
Where yesternight I roamed by crystal streams, 
And gathered flowers methought would never fade, 
Or talked with angels 'neath the pleasant shade ! 

It was a dream ; ah, yes, and life to me 
Was once a dream — smooth as the placid sea 
When all is calm, and on its bosom lies 
The golden radiance of the summer skies. 
There came a storm — the thunder's dreadful roar, 
The angry waves that beat against the shore 
Awakened me — oh, I had lived too long 
In the bright realms of fancy and of song. 

Perhaps 'twas well the storm swept o'er the sea, 
Perhaps 'twas well the tumult startled me, 
'Twas well I learned there's much to do and dare, 



152 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

Much to be suffered, much to meekly bear, 
But when I found the real though unsought, 
And thought of life and trembled as I though t,- 
When like the leaves in autumn day by day 
The hopes I cherished hastened to decay, 
And hopeless, helpless in my great despair 
I turned to earth but found no solace there, 
'Twas well for me that in the darkened skies 
I saw the Star of Bethlehem arise ! 

I know not why, though nature craves to know, 
That all my dreams of happiness below 
Should be thus blighted, yet the time is near 
When I, poor voyager, often shipwrecked here, 
Shall reach the port, and safely moored at last 
Review the scenes and sufferings of the past, — 
Beholding where the shadows darkest lay 
The dawning glory of immortal day, 
And all along the path that seemed so drear 
Leaving this one memorial — God was here ! 



"THINE EYES SHALL SEE THE KING IN HIS BEAUTY," 

The thought is ever present, Shall these eyes indeed 
see the Maker of the universe ? shall these feet indeed 
walk the Golden City ? shall these hands wave the 
palm of victory and strike the chords of the glorious 
harp whose music shall be sweeter than that of Da- 
vid's ? Can this be possible, and do I weep and 
mourn because of present affliction ? Oh, the future, 
the future ! what has it not in reserve for me ? Glo- 
ries of which mortal never dreamed : eternal life — 
eternal happiness — perpetual j'outh — knowledge un- 



SONGS OF HOPE. 153 

bounded, yet ever increasing ! Fly, fly, fly, days of 
pain and sorrow ! Hail, all hail ! bright morn of de- 
liverance. It will come; and I— oh, the thought 
overpowers me— I, poor and wretched and sinful, 
shall be blessed forever, forever, forever. 



ALL IS WELL. 

Dark the future yawns before me, 
Bitter griefs my bosom swell ; 

But a light is breaking o'er me, 
And a voice—" All, all is well ! " 

Sad and lone has been my journey, 
Sad and lone my way must be : 

Care and sorrow, pain and sickness, 
Long have been allotted me. 

Sunshine that o'er youthful bosoms 
Flings a bright and magic spell, 

Seldom breaks upon my pathway, 
Yet I know that all is well ! 

If the Hand that guides the planets 
Feeds the ravens when they cry, 

Can it be that I'm unnoticed 
By a Father's loving eye ? 

He has thoughts of mercy toward me, 

His designs I cannot tell ; 
'Tis enough for me to trust Him, 

He knows best— and all is well ! 

Many doubts and many shadows 
Oft have flitted through my mind, 



154 CANADIAN" WILD FLOWERS. 

And I've questioned, sadly questioned, 
But no answer could I find. 

Earth was silent to my pleading, 
Nature taught me to rebel ; 

But when I recall the promise 
u I am ivith thee" — all is well ! 

Many things I can't unravel ; 

Many winding mazes see ; 
But I'll go with faith unshaken, 

For the Lord is leading me. 

And when beams of endless glory 
The mysterious clouds dispel, 

Grateful shall I tell my story, 
Grateful say that all was well ! 



WE SHALL MEET. 

We have wandered oft together 
At the hour of setting sun ; 

Shall we wander thus together, 
When the toils of life are done ? 

Many hours we've spent together 
Scenes of joy and grief have known j 

Shall we spend the hours together 
When the joy will be alone ? 

Sad indeed would be our parting 
If we hoped to meet no more, 

But although the tears are starting, 
Look we to a brighter shore. 



SONGS OF HOPE. 155 

Dark indeed would be the morrow 

When apart we sadly roam, 
If beyond this world of sorrow 

We could see no happier home. 

But we've heard a joyful story 
Of a land that's bright and fair, 

And we hope to share its glory, 
And to meet each other there. 

Swiftly onward to the ocean 

Koll the troubled waves of time, 

Bearing us with every motion 
Nearer to the blessed clime. 

Soon the tears that now are starting 

With their causes will be o'er ; 
Soon the hands now clasped in parting 

Will be joined forevermore. 

We have shared one home together, 
We have sat around one board ; 

And we'll find a home together 
In the Paradise restored ! 



WHAT THE DAUGHTER OF THE CLOUD SAID. 

Down the spout a torrent gushed, to be pent up in 
an old, dark tub, and made the slave of the washer- 
woman. Would it not have been better for thee, 
water, to have fallen in the beautiful forest ? to lie in 
the bosom of the lily, or become a looking-glass for 
the many colored insects ? "I would be useful," 
whispered the daughter of the cloud, "therefore I 



156 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

have stooped to an humble action — I left the abode of 
the lightning. My lot is a lowly one ; my life full of 
sorrow and humiliation. I must pass through a fiery 
ordeal ; I must be cast out and despised by those 
whom I have served. But then will be the time of 
my exaltation : the blessed Sun will take pity upon 
me, and make me a gem of beauty in the angels' high- 
way !' 



t» 



[Though no application has been made of this similitude, 
yet the truth designed to be taught is easily gathered: The 
Christian may be called to many a lowly act — to a ministration 
which will subject him to reproach and suffering here, but the 
day of exaltation is sure to come. ' ; He that humbleth him- 
self shall be exalted." The day hastens when from the heav- 
ens the Saviour will descend, "who will transform the body 
of our humiliation, that it may be conformed to the body of 
his glory."— Phil. 3 : 21 {Am. Bible Union Trans.). How 
glorious will the humble workers of earth appear when they 
are beautified by the Sun of righteousness in the resurrection 
morning! That will be an Easter day of surpassing loveli- 
ness.] 



THIS IS NOT HOME. 

This is not home ! from o'er the stormy sea 
Bright birds of passage wing their way to me ; 
They bear a message from the loved and lost 
Who tried the angry waves and safely crossed, 
And now in homelike mansions find repose 
Where billows never roar nor tempest blows. 

As strangers here in foreign lands we roam, 
Oh, why should not the exile sigh for home ? 



SONGS OF HOPE. 157 

A thousand snares beset our thorny way, 

And night is round us — why not wish for day ? 

The storm is high, beneath its wintry wing 

The blossom fades — oh, why not wish for Spring ? 

The waters roll o'er treasures buried deep, 
And sacred dust the lonely churchyards keep- — 
Homes are dissolved and ties are rent in twain, 
And things that charm can never charm again, 
On every brow we mark the hand of time, 
Oh, why not long for the celestial clime ? 

Wave after wave rolls inward to the land, 
Then comes the wail and then the parting hand, 
And those for whom we would have freely died 
Are borne away upon the ebbing tide ; 
We weej) and mourn, we bid the sea restore, 
It mocks our grief — and takes one idol more. 

'Tis well for us that ties which bind the heart 
Too strongly here are rudely snapped apart ; 
'Tis well the pitcher at the fountain breaks, 
The golden bowl is shattered for our sakes, 
To show how frail and fleeting all we love, 
To raise our souls to lasting things above. 

We are but pilgrims — like the tribes who roam 

In every land but call no land their home, — 

And what their ancient Canaan is to them, 

So is to us the New Jerusalem ; 

Then while our hopes, cur hearts, our homes are there,. 

" Thy Kingdom come " must be our fervent prayer ! 



THE SOUL'S CONSOLATION. 
Ah, well it is for thee that there is one ear that 
will listen, one eye that pities, one heart that will 



158 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

take thee in — " Thou God seest me ! " Was ever 
consolation contained in so few words ? Oh, repeat 
it when the heart is breaking — when between thee 
and every earthly object yawns a gulf dark and im- 
passable. Thou God seest me ! Thou God lovest me 
— lovest me/ Thou knowest the agony of my spirit : 
thou knowest what I suffer, and thou must give me 
strength and grace to endure all, and to say in truth 
and sincerity, Thy will not mine be done. 



"WE SEE THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLY." 

We weep when from the darkened sky 

The thunderbolts are driven, 
And wheresoe'er we turn our eye 

Our earthly hopes are riven ; 
But could we look beyond the storm 

That threatens all before us, 
We might observe a heavenly form 

Guiding the tempest o'er us. 

The eye that sees the sparrow's fall, 

That never sleeps nor slumbers, 
Beholds our griefs however small, 

And every sigh he numbers. 
The angels fly at his command, 

With love their bosoms swelling, 
They lead us gently by the hand, — 

They hover round our dwelling. 

And when the fading things of earth 

Our hearts too fondly cherish, 
Forgetful of their mortal birth, 



SONGS OF HOPE. 159 

How suddenly they perish ! 
But 'tis in mercy and in love 

Our Father thus chastises, 
To fix our thoughts on things above ; 

He strikes, yet sympathizes. 

We know not, and we may not know 

Till dawn the endless ages, 
Why round his children here below 

The howling tempest rages ; 
But this we know, that life nor death 

Our souls from him can sever ! 
We'll praise him with our latest breath — 

We'll sing his praise forever ! 



WORDS OF CHEER FOR FAINTING CHRISTIANS. 

Poor pilgrim, weary with the toils of life, distressed 
and afflicted on every hand, persecuted and forsaken 
by thy iVllowmen, hast thou ever fathomed the depths 
of that glorious declaration, " I will never leave thee, 
nor forsake thee " ? — Heb. 13 : 5. Hast thou ever 
realized that in whatever situation thou mayest be 
placed — on the mountains of delight or in the vale of 
humiliation, in sickness or in health, in prosperity or 
in adversity, in life or in death — thou art under the 
immediate protection of the great Shepherd of Israel, 
who never sleeps nor slumbers ? The heavens may 
gather blackness, the storm may come down in fury, 
but He who whispered, "Peace, be still," to the rag- 
ing billows, is "the same yesterday, to-day and for- 
ever"; and though now invisible his presence is with 



160 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

thee as truly and as really as it was with the timid 
band of disciples on the stormy sea of Galilee. The 
lame Jesus that walked the streets of Jerusalem, — 
the pitiful, the affectionate, the tender-hearted, — is an 
eye-witness of all thy tears, thy trials and tempta- 
tions. His ear, which was never closed to the cry of 
the poor and needy, is still open to thy call ; and the 
heart which embraced the whole universe has a place 
for thee. The fires upon thy altar may have grown 
dim ; the sacrifice may have been the poor and lean 
of thy flock; but the coals of divine love are bright 
upon the heavenly altar ; and the great Sacrifice — the 
Lamb without spot or blemish — whispers of Calvary 
and Gethsemane, and mentions thee in his interces- 
sion. 

Amazing love ! love never to be fathomed. Angels 
who wait to do his bidding, seraphim and cherubim 
who behold his face in glory, can ye comprehend the 
height and depth, the length and breadth of the Sav- 
iour's love ? Ah ! angels, and seraphim, and cheru- 
bim still bend above the mercy-seat and "desire to 
look into " these things ; but ages on ages of eternity 
may roll away and the love that bowed the heavens 
for sinful and degraded mortals shall still remain an 
unsounded deep ! And this love is for thee — for thee, 
poor pilgrim. Plunge then deeply into this unfath- 
able ocean. Fear not to loosen thy hold upon the 
shore : there is nothing there worthy thy love. Thou 
art an heir of immortality, and the pleasures which 
endure for • a season should be nothing to thee. 



SONGS OF nurE. 1G1 

Wealth, and liouor, and power are only the gildings 
of a groaning and sin-cursed earth. The shouts of 
mirth and revelry borne upon the midnight air, are 
only the prelude to tears and sighs and mourning. 
Behind thee is the blackness of despair, before thee 
the everlasting sunshine. Away, away ! tarry not to 
sip water from the broken cistern, for the living foun- 
tain gushes forth, clear as crystal ; and the invitation 
is for all: "Ho, every one that thirsteth " (Isa. 55 : 
1 ; Rev. 21 : 6 ; 22: IT).— Aug. 10, 1856. 



PteUawy. 



THE DYING YEAR. 

Hark! there comes at midnight hour 

Sound like funeral knell, 
Chaining us with magic power, 

Whispering, " Farewell." 

"lis the dying year's last sigh 
Mingling with the storm ; 

Closes now his hollow eye, 
Sinks his feeble form. 

Still at midnight, dark and lone, 

Mournful echoes ring, 
Murmuring in solemn tone, 

" Time is on the uring." 



INCOMPREHENSIBILITY OF GOD. 

O God, where art thou ? where thy mighty throne ? 
Why is thy face unseen, and thou unknown ? — 
Source and support of all, why is thy form 
Hidden from mortal eyes ? when every storm 
That sweeps athwart the dark and angry sky, 
When all the bright and burning orbs on high, 
When the deep sea that in its fury roars, 
When all its beautiful and fertile shores, 
When every river, hill and lowly dale, 
When every mountain, tree, and flowery vale, 



MISCELLANY. 163 

When every bird, and e'en the springing sod, 
Whisper aloud, " There is, there is a God ! " 

These are thy works ; but where, God, art thou ? 
Pavilioned in deep darkness, is thy brow 
Hid in dark folds, ne'er to be drawn apart ? 
Will mortal never see thee as thou art ? 
Yes ; when the wheels of time have ceased to run, 
When yon bright orb its glorious task lias done, 
Then will the veil be rent which once concealed 
The throne of God, the mighty unrevealecl ; 
Then human eyes will view his dwelling-place, 
And saints, as angels, see him face to face. 



THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 

Lo in the east the Star begins to rise, 

The glorious centre for admiring eyes 

Of men and angels — Herald of the morn 

So long foretold, the Prince of peace is born ! 

O'er all the earth let hallelujahs ring, 

Let all the earth a fitting tribute bring — 

With gold and silver, frankincense and myrrh. 

Come from the south, or, dad in robes of fur, 

Come from the frozen north, from east and west, 

Prince, priest and warrior, earth's great ones and best, 

Come to the manger, humbly there lay down 

The sword, the mitre and the jeweled crown. 

The rich and noble celebrate the day 

With pomp and show ; but who are these ? make way 

Ye sons of wealth ! ye rulers stand aside ! 

This is no place, this is no hour for pride ; 

The sick, the lame, the blind, the deaf, the dumb, 

The sinful, poor and sorrowful may come ; 



164 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

And even I can bring my little store — 
A weary, sin-sick heart — I've nothing more : 
The world may frown, the lofty may despise, 
The gift is precious in my Saviour's eyes. 
To him as sacred are the tears that fall 
In lowly cottage as in princely hall, — 
Ko rich, no poor his loving bosom knows, 
He cares for all and pities all their woes, 
In the same censer offers up their prayers, 
And on his heart their names alike he bears. 

O Star above all stars ! whose blessed light 
Illumes the darkness of our moral night, 
Still guide our wandering feet till He whose birth 
Thou didst announce shall come again to earth, 
And wise and simple, king and subject meet 
To hear their doom before the judgment-seat, — 
Till nature's groans with human groans shall cease, 
And Earth itself, once more with Heaven at peace, 
Shall put her robes of deathless beauty on, 
Time be no more, and the millennium dawn ! 



GOD MADE ME POOR. 

God made me poor — am I to blame ? 

And shall I bow my head 
As though it were some dreadful shame 

I had inherited ? 

Shall I among the rich and great 
Like trembling culprit stand, 

Or like obedient servant wait 
To do their least command ? 

And when they pass me by in scorn — 
As they have often done, — 



MISCELLANY. 165 



Shall I regret that I was born 
An humble farmer's son ? 

No ! should it ever cause a sigh 
This were indeed a shame ; 

For all unworthy then were I 
To bear my father's name. 

I'll pay to all the homage due 
'Whatever rank they hold; 

But to my manhood ever true 
J /fill not boiv to gold. 



THE STRANGER GUEST, 

Came a stranger, sad and weary, 
To my humble cot one day, 

And he asked me for a shelter, — 
Long ami rough had been the way 

He had traveled 
On that sultry summer day. 

Pain and grief had marred his beauty, 

And a tear was in his eye 
As he asked me for a shelter, 

And then waited a reply. 
Tears did gather 

In mine own, 1 knew not why. 

'Neath my humble roof I led him, 
As he crossed the threshold o'er 

" Peace to thee," he softly whispered ; 
Peace I never knew before 

Filled my bosom, 
As the stranger filled my door. 



1G6 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

Be my friend and guest forever, 
In a trembling voice I said ; 

And lie smiled and laid so gently- 
One dear hand upon my head ; 

It was bleeding, 
And I knew for me it bled I 

" I will be thy guest forever," 
Said the stranger unto me ; 

" Bat the cost — say, hast thou counted- 
Counted what the cost will be ? 

Earthly pleasures, 
Wilt thou leave them all for me ? 

" Wilt thou take my yoke upon thee ? 

Wilt thou humbly bear my name ? 
Crush the risings of ambition, 

And the hopes of earthly fame ? 
Freely suffering, 

For my sake, reproach and shame ? " 

Then I said, Both fame and pleasure 

Willingly I can resign ; 
Let me only feel thy presence, 

Let me know that thou art mine, 
And dear Saviour, 

All I have and am are thine ! 



A LONG DELIGHTFUL WALK. 

While reading to-day an account of the descendants 
of Adam my mind was particularly struck with the 
short but comprehensive narrative of Enoch : " He 
walked with God, and he was not ; for God took him" 



MISCELLANY. 107 

(Gen. 5 : 21-24). He " walked with God," and how 
long ? " Three hundred years " after he begat Me- 
thuselah. Oh, how strange that it should be so hard 
for rne to walk in the commandments of the Lord 
even for a few days ! God, give me more of the 
love and more of the faith that Enoch possessed. — 
Aug. 18, 1853. 



"THE SERVANT IS NOT ABOVE HIS MASTER." 

LoncTy pilgrim, art thou sinking 

'Neath the weight of grief and care ? 
Bitter dregs of sorrow drinking 

From the cup of dark despair ? 
Mourn not, for thy Master's footsteps 

The same gloomy paths have trod; 
He has drained the cup of anguish, — 

He, the mighty Son of God. 

Does guant poverty surround thee, 

With its pale and meagre train ? 
Do they gather closely round thee, 

Want, and suffering and pain ? 
Mourn not, for the chilly dew-drops 

Tell upon thy Master's bed ; 
Mourn not, for the Prince of Glory 

Had not where to lay his head ! 

Are thy kindred lowly lying 
In the cold and silent tomb, 

Heedless of thy plaintive sighing, 
Heedless of thy grief and gloom ? 

Know thy Master's tears descended 
Where a dearly-loved one slept ; 



168 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

He knows well thy weight of sorrow ; 
Murmur not, for Jesus wept. 

Do the friends that once caressed thee 

Pass thee by with frowning brow ? 
Has the friendship that once blessed thee 

Changed to bitter hatred now ? 
Weep not, for thy Master's brethren 

In his sorrow turned aside, 
Scorned to own that once they loved hinij 

Weep not, — Jesus was denied ! 

Does a scoffing world deride thee, 

And expose to scorn and shame ? 
Do thy foes rise up beside thee, 

Blast thy character and name ? 
Know thy Master was derided, 

Scorned in Pilate's judgment-hall. 
Mourn not ; Christ, the great Redeemer, 

Was despised and loathed by all. 

Art thou torn with grief and anguish ? 

Packed with many a burning pain ? 
Does thy weary body languish? 

Fearful pangs torment thy brain? 
Murmur not ; from Calvary's mountain 

List thy Master's dying groan ! 
Murmur not ; thy great Redeemer 

Gave his life to save thine own ! 

Does the monster Death look dreary ? 

Pill thy mind with fears and gloom ? 
Does thy spirit, faint and weary, 

Shrink in terror from the tomb ? 
Know thy Master 's gone before thee, 

Crossed the dark and narrow tide, 



MISCELLANY. 1G9 

Disarmed Death of all his terrors : 
Then fear not — thy Saviour died! 

Yes, he died, — the Prince of Glory, — 

Died upon the cursed tree ; 
Pilgrim, spread the joyful story: 

Jesus died, and died for thee ! 
And he rose, — he rose triumphant, — 

Burst the bars of death in twain. 
Lonely pilgrim, that same Jesus 

Will return to earth again ! 

See the first faint beams of morning 

Chasing night and clouds away, 
All the glorious sky adorning ; 

Pilgrim, it is break of day ! 
Rouse thee, pilgrim, weep no longer ; 

Let thy glad Hosanna ring ! 
Jesus comes in power and glory : 

Hail thy Saviour and thy King ! 



ELIJAH. 



He calmly stands on the mountain's brow. 

God shield thee, thou lonely prophet, now ! 

For thy friends are few, and thy foes are strong, 

And each heart beats high in that mocking throng; 

And every eye is fixed upon thee, 

As thou standest alone in thy majesty. 

The prophets of Baal are many and great, 
And they move along in princely state ; 
With a scornful eye and a haughty air, 
They have proudly taken their station there ; 
While the blood of thy comrades stains the sod, 
And thou only art left a prophet of God. 



170 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

Yet firm is thy step, and calm thy brow — 
The Lord God of hosts is for thee now ; 
And, strong in his strength, thou mayest advance, 
And defy the world with thy piercing glance ; 
While the prophets of Baal bend at thy nod, 
And the people own that the Lord, he is God. 

The sun shines bright in the azure sky, 

And the morning breeze sweeps gently by, 

And all is quiet on earth, in air — 

Not a sound escapes from that multitude there ; 

Though eager each eye and troubled each mien, 

Yet the stillness of death reigns over the scene. 

But a voice is heard ; and clear and loud 
It breaks on the ears of the listening crowd ; 
They quickly obey. A space is cleared ; 
The bullock is slain, the altar is reared ; 
While the prophets of Baal around it bend, 
And implore their god an answer to send. 

The day wears on, and the sun is high — 

Still round that altar they madly cry ; 

But the sky is serene as ever before, 

And, frantic with rage, they shout the more ; 

But 't is all in vain ; and the day has past, 

And the prophets of Baal have yielded at last. 

Each heart beats high with anxiety there, 
As Elijah, with calm, majestic air, 
Alone and exposed to a nation's frown, 
Rebuilds the altar long since thrown down. 
'T is the hour for the evening sacrifice now, 
And he solemnly kneels on the mountain's brow. 

On the name of the Lord his God he calls ; 
When, lo ! quick as lightning, the fire falls ! 



MISCELLANY. 171 

A smoke ascends to the vaulted sky, 

And with it arises a mingled cry ; 

And bowed is each head, and bent is each knee 

As " The Lord, he is God ! " rings loud o'er the sea. 

'T is night, and the evening breeze grows chill ; 
The prophet pleads with Jehovah still ; 
He has seen the prophets of Baal slain, 
And now he implores for the falling rain. 
The heavens grow black at Jehovah's word ; 
Arise, Elijah, thy prayer is heard ! 



THE SACRED PAGE. 

Golden-headed youth and silver-headed age 
Bend together earnestly o'er the Sacred Page ; 
One amid spring blossoms, while the falling leaves 
Gather round the other sitting 'mid the sheaves ; 
One amid the twilight of the coming day, 
While the shadows deepen round the other's way. 

Golden-headed youth and silver-headed age 

Bead the same sweet lessons from the Sacred Page ; 

Eyes that brim with laughter, eyes that dim with 

years, 
Resting there pay tribute in a flood of tears ; 
Bosy lips and pallid trembling at the cry — 
Mournfully repeating the Sabachthani ! 

Golden-headed youth and silver-headed age 

Draw their consolation from the Sacred Page ; 

One is in the valley where the grass is green, 

While the other gazes on a wintry scene ; 

Both have lost their birth-right — both have felt their 

loss, 
And they both regain it through the blessed Cross ! 



172 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

Golden-headed youth and silver-headed age, 
Find their way to Heaven in the Sacred Page ; 
Like the little children waiting to be blessed, 
One goes forth rejoicing to the Saviour's breast, 
While the other clingeth to his mighty arm, 
'Mid the swelling Jordan feeling no alarm. 

Golden-headed youth and silver-headed age, 
Come, and seek for treasures in the Sacred Page ; 
To the one how tender is the Saviour's call ; 
Yet the invitation He extends to all ; 
Earthly fountains fail you — hasten to assuage 
Every grief of childhood — every pang of age ! 

Oh, what a book is the Bible ! There is enough in 
one verse to condemn the whole world, and enough in 
another to redeem it. 

No man in a dark night can behold himself in a 
mirror until a lamp is lighted, — and not even then 
distinctly and perfectly until the dawn of day : so no 
man can see himself in God's mirror until the beams 
of the divine lamp [the Holy Spirit] illume his soul, — 
nor even then can he see perfectly what a wretched 
and distorted being he is " until the day break " and, 
being made like his Saviour, he contrasts what he is 
with what he once was. 



BEHOLD HOW HE LOVED US, 

While on the cross the Saviour bleeds, 
While friend nor foe his anguish heeds, 
While many a taunt and bitter jeer 
Break harshly on his holy ear, 



MISCELLANY. 



173 



He prays, — what can that last prayer be ? 
Oh, wondrous love, he prays for me ! 

Deep anguish fills his troubled soul, 
The streams of blood in torrents roll ; 
And louder railings now are heard ; 
He breathes not one complaining word ; 
Yet, hark ! he prays, — what can it be ? 
Oh, wondrous love, he prays for me ! 

He bows his head, Immanuel dies ; 
Darkness o'erspreads the azure skies, 
Loud thunders shake the earth and air, 
And earthquakes heave in horror there ; 
Angels the act with wonder see ; 
Oh, matchless love, he dies for me ! 

He leaves the dark and gloomy grave, 
While angel-pinions round him wave, 
And, rising from the mountain's brow, 
Appears before his Father now ; 
He pleads,— what can those pleadings be ? 
Oh, deathless love, he pleads for me ! 

And can I then such scenes behold, 
And still be careless, still be cold ? 
Can I, with air of sinful pride, 
Cast such unbounded love aside ? 
My soul, oh, can it, can it be ? 
Has Jesus died in vain for thee ? 

Oh, no ! the crimson streams that glide 
From Calvary's deeply blood-stained side, 
Invite my soul, so stained with sin, 
To wash away its guilt therein ; 
And in those precious drops I see 
Christ has not died in vain for me ! 



174 CANADIAN" WILD FLOWERS. 

The Saviour pleads, in thrilling tone, 
Before his mighty Father's throne, 
That for his sake my guilty name 
Within the book of life may claim 
A place. He smiles ; and now I see 
Christ does not plead in vain for me ! 

Amazing love ! what tongue can tell 
The wondrous depths that in thee dwell ? 
What angel's mind can e'er explore 
The riches of thy boundless store ? 
Oh, matchless love beyond degree, — 
Christ bled, he died, and pleads for me ! 



LOVE YOUR ENEMIES. 

Arrows dipped in poison flew 

From the fatal bow ; 
And they pierced my bosom through, 

And they laid me low. 

Every nerve to anguish strung, 

In distress I cried : 
And the waste around me rung, 

But no voice replied. 

" Cruel was the hand," I said, 
" That could draw the bow : 
Curses rest upon the head 
Of my heartless foe ! " 

Turning straightway at the sound, 

In the tangled wood, 
Pale, and bearing many a wound, 

There a stranger stood. 



MISCELLANY. 175 

Mournfully on me he gazed, 

Not a word he said : 
But oue hand the stranger raised, 

And I saw it bled. 

Blood was flowing from his side 

And his thorn-pierced brow ; 

" Who has wounded thee ? " I cried, 

And he answered, " Tlwu I " 

Then I knew the Stranger well, 

And with sobs and tears 
Prostrate at his feet I fell, 

But he soothed my fears. 

" Thou hast wounded me, but live, — 
And my blessing take : 
Henceforth wilt thou not forgive 
Freely for my sake ? " 

Besting in his fond embrace, 

Eased of every woe, — 
Then I said, with smiling face, 
" Jesus, bless my foe ! " 



THE ORPHAN. 

. The storm was loud ; a murky cloud 

O'erhung the midnight sky, 
And rude the blast that wildly passed 

A lonely orphan by ; , 
But ruder still the bitter thrill 

Of woe that rent his heart ; 
Darker his fears, sadder the tears 

That evermore would start. 



176 CANADIAX WILD FLOWEES. 

"Bleak is the storm, and on my form 

The winds in fury beat ; 
A racking pain torments my brain, 

And sore these weary feet ; 
No ray of light illumes the night, 

And here, alas ! I roam, 
Where tempests howl and wild beasts growl ; 

Oh, that I had a home ! 

" Full many a day has rolled away 

Since I have laid me down, 
To cease to weep, and fall asleep, 

Save on the cold, damp ground ; 
And many more may pass me o'er 

Ere I may cease to roam ; 
One year ago it was not so, — 

For then I had a home ! 

" Then on his child a father smiled, 

And fondly me caressed ; 
When sorrow came, or bitter pain, 

I leaned upon his breast ; 
He'd kiss my cheek, and kindly speak 

In soft and soothing tone ; 
Oh, what a strange and dreary change — 

For then I had a home ! 

" When evening gray shut out the day, 

Beside my mother's knee, 
With simple air I breathed the prayer 

That mother taught to me ; 
Then laid me down, not on the ground, 

Not on this cold, damp stone ; 
But on my bed, love made instead, — 

For then I had a home ! 



MISCELLANY. 



177 



" The livelong day I spent in play 

Around our peaceful cot, 
Or plucked the flowers from blooming bowers, 

And to my mother brought. 
Then bliss and joy without alloy, 

And love around me shone ; 
Then hope could rest within my breast — 

For then I had a home ! 

" My father died, and by his side 

My darling mother sleeps ; 
And now their child in anguish wild 

Wanders around and weeps ! 
The pleasant cot my father bought 

A stranger calls his own ; 
With tearful face I left the place, 

For it was not my home ! 

" No home have I, no shelter nigh, 

And none my grief to share ; 
But I've a Friend, to him I'll bend, 

And he will grant my prayer. 
He'll lend an ear for he can hear, 

Though high his mighty throne ; 
My steps he'll guide, and he'll provide 

The orphan with a home ! 

" Dark grows the sky, my lips are dry, 

And cold my aching brow ; 
Is this a dream ? — for, lo ! I seem 

To see my mother now ! 
Faint grows my breath, the arms of death 

Are surely round me thrown ; 
Oh, what a light breaks on my sight ! 

There, there's the orphan's home ! " 



178 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

With smiling face in death's embrace 

The orphan calmly slept ; 
He heard no more the tempest's roar ; 

No more the orphan wept. 
No longer pain might rack his brain, 

No longer might he roam, 
The dearly loved he'd met above, 

And found with them a home ! 



SENTENTIOUS PARAGRAPHS. 

Rest, but few can comprehend the word. At morn 
I speak it, but at midnight most, and then 'tis music ! 
Oh, the thought of rest — of perfect freedom from dis- 
tress and pain — of health, of vigor in each nerve and 
limb. The thought inspires, consoles, and makes me 
pray for fear I shall lose the blessing. Grant me, 
God, a patient heart ; and may my will be so con- 
formed to thine, that I may wait thy own good pleas- 
ure, whatsoever it be. 

There are moments when Calvary overshadows 
Mount Sinai ; when the blessed words, " It is fin- 
ished," swell long and loud above the roar of thunder 
and the sound of trumpets ; Avhen the Cross conceals 
the Tables of stone bearing the holy law of the 
Almighty, and then I can boldly reply to the upbraid- 
ings of Conscience, " There is now no condemnation 
to them which are in Christ Jesus." 

Sing, my heart, for the day cometh wherein the 
night shall be no more at all remembered ; the clouds 



MISCELLANY. 179 

shall melt like vapor, and the voice of mourning and 
lamentation shall be heard no more forever. Awake 
and sins ! 



"YE DID IT NOT TO ME." 

'Twas night — a dark and stormy night: 

The wintry winds were high ; 
Within the fire was blazing bright 
And as I trimmed the cheerful light 

I heard a pleading cry. 

" Come in," in hasty tones I said, 

The door flew open wide — 
The tempest roared — I shrieked with dread, 
For, lo, a Spectre from the dead 

Was standing by my side ! 

One icy hand was on mine own, 

I would have turned and fled : 
But ah ! my limbs were chilled to stone, 
As in a low, sepulchral tone 

The sheeted Spectre said : 

" It was a night like this I died, 

Scorned by my fellow men ; 
To me a shelter was denied 
But when they slumber by my side, 

We shall be equals then. 

" I starved — and thou wast clothed and fed, 

And had enough to spare ; 
Thou mights't have come with gentle tread, 
And stood beside my dying bed, 

And found a blessing there. 



180 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

" But now my curse : nor mine alone — 

The moment yet will be 
When thou wilt stand before the Throne, 
And hear it said in thunder tone : 

1 Thou didst it not to Me. 5 " 

The light grew dim throughout the room, 

Soon darkness reigned supreme, 
But that pale Spectre from the tomb 
Still eyed me through the dusky gloom,— 
Thank God, 'twas but a dream ! 



HEAR AND HELP ME, 

Darkness and death are round me, 

The night is late ; 
Yet once the Shepherd found me 

In such a state ! 
He lulled my fears to rest, 
He took me to his breast ; 
Is he less kind to-day ? 
Lord Jesus, hear me pray ! 

Oh, hear me pray ! 
Remove the hateful sin 
Which cankers all within 

And shrouds my way. 
Oh, hear me in my anguish, 

My Saviour God ! 
I droop, I faint, I languish 

Beneath thy rod : 
I tremble on the brink, 
Support me or I sink : 
Oh, hear me while I cry ; 
Oh, save me or I die ! 



MISCELLANY. 181 

FAREWELL 

We stood upon the lonely shore 

And watched the bounding bark 
Which far away the loved ones bore, 

On billows wild and dark ; 
And then there came a gloomy sound 
Mournfully, mournfully stealing around — 

And the sound was this, 
As it rose and fell 

O'er the broad expanse, — 
" Farewell ! farewell ! " 

We sought our home — once bright and fair, 

No word of hope we said, 
Tor Sorrow entered with us there, 

With slow and silent tread ; 
And came a voice from every room 
Mournfully, mournfully through the gloom ; 
And the voice was this, 

As it sadly fell 
On our aching hearts, — 
" Farewell, fareivell ! " 

The garden that at morn was gay, 

And the sequestered bower, 
Seemed to have wept their bloom away, 

All in one little hour ; 
We heard a voice upon the breeze 
Sigh mournfully, mournfully through the trees, 

And the voice was this, 
As it rose and fell 

On the balmy air, — 
" Farewell, farewell ! " 

Years, weary years have passed us o'er 
Since that unhappy morn, 



182 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

And in our arms we clasp once more 

With rapture our first-born. 
And thankful for our Father's care 
Gratefully, gratefully raise the prayer, 
That when life is o'er 

Our anthems may swell 
Where lips breathe no more — 
Farewell, farewell ! 



NO MOTHER, 

No mother ! well, the burning tears may flow 
And bathe thy pillow, hapless orphan, now ; 

No mother's tender voice may soothe thy woe, 
No mother's kiss is on thy aching brow. 

Thou heaxest footsteps passing by the door, 

Oft hast thou heard thy mother's footsteps there ; 

But ah ! she comes, unhappy boy, no more 

To say " Good night " or hear thy evening prayer. 

Weep on : there's none to wipe away thy tears, 
There's none on earth thy mother's place to fill ; 

The night seems dark, but when the morn appears 
Darkness and gloom will be around thee still. 

For thou hast lost what time can ne'er restore, 
What other friends, though kind, can never be ; 

She had bright visions of a better shore 
But asked to live — it was alone for thee. 

Kneel, wretched orphan, kneel beside thy bed ; 

Thy voice is choked, thy sobs have louder grown ; 
No mother's hand is lying on thy head, 

No mother's heart is lifted with thy own. 



MISCELLANY. 



183 



But thou canst pray, and on the Saviour's breast, 
Which feels for every grief and every care, 

Pillow thy head and sweetly sink to rest, 
A more than mother will protect thee there. 



TO A MOTHER ON THE DEATH OF HER CHILD. 

Mother, thy loved one slumbers now 

In deep, unbroken rest ; 
But slumbers not with smiling brow 

Upon thy tender breast. 
Oh, no ! for Death with cruel dart, 

Unheeding anguish wild, 
Has rudely torn thy yearning heart, 

And borne away thy child. 

Thy home is drear at break of day, 

And drear at set of sun ; 
For, lo ! the grave enwraps the clay 

Of thy departed one. 
And vainly does thy spirit sigh, 

With yearnings deep and wild, 
To clasp once more within thy arms 

Thy dear, thy darling child. 

Cold Death has snatched thy lovely flower ; 

But, lo ! the day draws near, 
When even Death shall lose his power, 

And thy sweet child appear 
All glorious with immortal life, 

In Eden's garden fair. 
Oh, mother, mother ! would'st thou meet 

Thy dearly-loved one there ? 

Oh, would'st thou join the blood-washed throng 
On that immortal shore ? 



184 , CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

Oil, would'st thou swell the Conqueror's song 
And greet thy child once more ? t 

Then turn to Him who died for thee 
A death of woe and pain ; 

And at the resurrection morn 
Embrace thy child again ! 



IN GOODNESS IS TRUE GREATNESS, 

[The following lines were addressed to her brother on re- 
ceiving a locket containing his daguerreotype.] 

I touch the spring — and lo, a face 

Which for these many years 
Within my heart has had a place, 

A tender place — appears. 

The large dark eyes look up to mine, 

So like thyself ! — the cheek, 
The brow, the features, all are thine : 

Speak to me, brother, speak ! 

And tell me of each grief and care : 

For be they great or small, 
A sister's heart would take a share — 

And, if it could, take all ! 

And tell me of each hopeful plan, 

And how the future seems, — 
Oh, may that future to the man 

Be all the boy now dreams. 

I've heard thee say thou wouldst be great, 

And with the gifted shine ; 
5 T is well ; but there 's a nobler fate, 

I pray it may be thine : 



MISCELLANY. 185 

It is to be an honest man, — 

To elevate thy race, 
And like the good Samaritan 

Do good in every place ; 

To struggle bravely for the right, 
Though kings defend the wrong ; 

To live as in thy Maker's sight, 
And in his strength be strong ; 

To put the spotless garment on, 

To keep it pure and white, 
And when the endless day shall dawn 

Keceive a crown of light. 

Dear brother, fame is but a breath, 

So I implore for thee 
A holy life, a happy death, 

A blest eternity, 



SIMILES, 

Beneath the snow and frost of winter there are liv- 
ing seeds which shall produce abundant harvests : so 
beneath a cold exterior there may be a heart full of 
high resolves and glorious impulses, which at the 
right season shall burst into blossom and bear pre- 
cious fruit. 

How often the sun rises in a cloudless sky, to be 
obscured before noonday ! Human life is like our 
fickle clime : to-day all sunshine, and to-morrow 
clouds. 



186 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

The sun is the same by day and night, but the 
earth comes betwixt his light and us : so when the 
Sun of righteousness seems to have left our horizon 
and we turn in vain to the right and the left to find 
him, may it not be that the dark, dense earth has 
come betwixt us and his life-giving beams, while He 
remains "the same yesterday, to-day and forever"? 

The thistle has a fragrant smell, and the thorn a 
pleasant fruit. It is a disease in the shell-fish that 
makes the pearl : so your sickness, my friend, may 
be the means of your winning the Pearl of great price. 

What plant would thrive if the sun shone forever ? 
and what should we be if the sun of prosperity always 
shone upon our pathway ? Along life's dusty thor- 
oughfare I see the world, but not as I saw it once : 
sickness and sorrow have given me another pair of 
eyes. 

Gentle breezes, balmy breezes, 
There is vigor in your breath, 

But ye cannot bring the roses 
To the leaden cheeks of death ! 

The soil that produces the rankest weeds would by 
proper care and cultivation produce the richest crops : 
so will the human heart when regenerated by grace 
and truth. 

The violet cannot become the rose, the daisy cannot 
be the lily ; and if they could all be the loveliest 
flower, earth would lose half its beauty. Without va- 
riety, a scene however fair within itself soon wearies 



MISCELLANY. 187 

us. Knowest thou the moral ? Be content in thy 
proper sphere : thou may est be the violet or the 
daisy, but envy not the rose and the lily; all are 
beautiful when in their appointed place. 

At morn the shadows slant toward the west, but 
toward the east at night : so when the sun of life de- 
clines the shadows stretch away toward the everlast- 
ing hills whence the eternal beams of day shall arise. 



THE CRUCIFIED OF GALILEE. 

Meth ought I stood, at close of day, 
Where soft the balmy breezes play, 
And bright beneath the Eastern skies 
The sacred hills of Canaan rise, 
And saw him on the shameful tree, — 
The Crucified of Galilee ! 

I heard the mocking throng deride 
The anguish of the Crucified ; 
I saw the brilliant sun grow dim ; 
I heard creation shriek for him ; 
I saw him die, and die for me, — 
The Crucified of Galilee ! 

And then I saw the veil upraised 
From the eternal world, and gazed 
Upon the scene in deep surprise ; 
One form alone could fix my eyes ; 
I knew him, yes, indeed 'twas he, — 
The Crucified of Galilee ! 

And though upon his lovely brow 
A beam of glory rested now ; 



188 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

Though angels praised his holy name ; 
Yet still I knew he was the same 
Who hung upon the shameful tree, — 
The Crucified of Galilee ! 

I knew him by his tender air ; 
I knew him by the fervent prayer 
He breathed for those for whom he died ; 
I knew him by his wounded side ; 
By these I knew that it was he, — 
The Crucified of Galilee ! 

I knew him by the loving smile 
With which he welcomed sinners vile ; 
I kuew him, for he took a share 
In all his children's griefs and care ; 
I knew him by his love for me, — 
The Crucified of Galilee ! 

The vision faded from afar ; 
But still 't is memory's guiding star, 
To cheer the night and point a way 
Unto an everlasting day, 
When I, with unveiled eyes, shall see 
The Crucified of Galilee ! 



THE ASCENSION. 

A well-known group stood on the mountain side 
And in their midst appeared the Crucified. 
Oft had they stood in that sequestered place, 
Their beaming eyes fixed on their Saviour's face ; 
But never met on Olivet's fair brow 
With such emotions as they cherished now ; 
And never with such eager spirits hung 



MISCELLANY. 



189 



Upon the words that fell from Jesus' tongue ; 

For never had their Master's voice before 

Sounded so sweet as when — his mission o'er, — 

He gathered round him that devoted band, 

To give his blessing and his last command : 

" Go ye, and teach all nations in my name — 

The Jew and Greek, the bond and free, the same ; 

But first proclaim a Saviour's love to those 

Who thirsted for his blood, and mocked his woes, 

That they, believing, through his death may live, 

And know their risen Saviour can forgive. 

Ye shall declare salvation's waters free, 

And bid all nations to the fountain flee ; 

And though ye meet with perils dark and drear, 

And tribulation be your portion here, — 

Though persecution, with uplifted sword, 

Shall call for blood, and your own blood be poured,— 

Yet know that I, your Saviour and your friend, 

Will be with you till life itself shall end ; 

And with all those who boldly shall proclaim 

To a lost world salvation through my name, 

In every land, in every age and clime, 

Till the last trump shall sound the knell of time." 

The humble followers of the Nazarene 
In silent awe gazed on the wondrous scene ; 
Beheld their Lord in power and glory rise 
Up the bright pathwav of the parting skies ; 
And while they strove with piercing eyes in vain 
To catch one glimpse of that dear form again, 
Two angels left the bright and heavenly shore, 
And messages of joy and love they bore. 
Oh, glorious message to that faithful band, 
Who on the mountain's top bewildered stand 1 
Oh, glorious sound to every ransomed soul, 



190 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

From sea to sea, from spreading pole to pole 

In every age, oh, tell the tidings o'er — 

" That very Jesus shall return once more ! " 

Hark ! angel-voices rend the vaulted sky, 

In thrilling tones those shining angels cry, 

" Why stand ye gazing on yon glistening dome ? 

Heaven has received your risen Master home ! 

The time will come, when, as ye saw him rise, 

He shall descend in power the parted skies." 



THE HEBREW'S LAMENT. 

Thou art the land of all my dreams, — 
Thy wanderer's heart is thine, 

And oft he lingers by thy streams, 
holy Palestine ! 

A stranger in a stranger's land 

O'er hill and vale I roam ; 
But hope forever points her hand 

Towards my father's home. 

They tell me that on Zion's hill 
The Cross and Crescent shine : 

But oh, my heart is with thee still, 
Beloved Palestine. 

I know that Israel's weary race 
Are scorned on every shore, 

And scarcely find a dwelling-place 
Where they were lords before. 

Yet, 'mid the darkness and the gloom, 

A light begins to break ; 
Israel, from the dreary tomb 

Thy buried hopes awake, — 



MISCELLANY. 191 

And lips that raise the fervent prayer, 
" How long, O Lord, how long ? " 

Shall change the wailings of despair 
To the triumphant song. 

And I may live to see the hour — 

The hour that must be near, — 
When in his royalty and power 

Our Shiloh will appear. 

Till then my prayers will rise for thee, 

Till then my heart be thine, 
land beyond the stormy sea, 

holy Palestine. 



WHEN SHALL I RECEIVE MY DIPLOMA? 

For many long years I have been in the school of 
affliction, and during that time how often I have 
asked the questions, When will my course be com- 
pleted ? when shall I receive my diploma ? But let 
me first consider : Am I prepared for the grand exam- 
ination in which angels are to be the spectators, and 
God himself judge ? Here teachers and professors — 
however skilled in human wisdom, friends and rela- 
tives — however anxious for my welfare, must step 
aside and leave me alone before the dread tribunal ! 
In the presence of my fellow-creatures I might wear 
the robes of hypocrisy and appear in reality what I 
am not ; but what would this avail me in the presence 
of Him who knows every thought even before it is 



192 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

formed, and whose searching eye can take in at a sin- 
gle glance the past, present, and future of my history ? 
dreaded hour ! who can wonder that timid mor- 
tals put it far in the distance, and even strive to shut 
their eyes to its stern reality ? What folly ! Were 
the light of revelation quenched forever, there is that 
within every human breast which warns of a judg- 
ment to come and of a righteous retribution. Swift 
as the planets roll in their orbits around the sun, still 
swifter advances that terrible scene around which the 
hopes and fears, the joys and miseries of eternity 
cluster. It is the great centre of attraction, not only 
for one age or one nation, but for all who have drawn 
the breath of life from the grand creation anthem of 
stars and angels (Job 38 : 4-7) till stars and angels 
again lift up their voices in concert, and swear that 
" Time shall be no longer." Yet the life, the heart of 
each individual there will be as closely examined as 
if the court of Heaven were sitting for him alone, and 
he the only person for whom the joys of Paradise or 
the pains of Hell were prepared by eternal Justice ! 



ALONE WITH JESUS. 

Alone with Jesus ! leave me here, 
Without a wish, without a fear, — 
My pulse is weak and faint my breath 
But is He not the Lord of death ? 
And if I live, or if I die, 
'T is all the same when He is nigh. 



MISCELLAXY. 193 

Alone with Jesus ! ye who weep, 
And round my bed your vigils keep, 
My love was never half so strong, 
And yours — oh, I have proved it long, 
But when had earthly friend the power 
To comfort in a dying hour ! 

Alone with Jesus ! oh, how sweet 
In health to worship at his feet ! 
But sweeter far when day by day 
We droop, and pine, and waste away, 
To feel his arms around us close, 
And in his bosom find repose ! 

Alone with Jesus ! how secure, 
Vile in myself, in him how pure ; 
The tempests howl, the waters beat, 
They harm me not in my retreat ; 
Night deepens — 'mid its gloom and chill 
He draws me nearer to him still. 

Alone with Jesus ! what alarms 
The infant in its mother's arms ? 
Before me death and judgment rise, — 
I turn my head and close mine eyes, 
There's naught for me to fear or do, 
I know that he will bear me through ! 

Alone with Jesus ! earth grows dim, — 
I even see my friends through him ; 
Time, space, all things below, above, 
Reveal to me one Life, one Love, — 
That One in whom all glories shine, 
All beauties meet — that One is mine ! 



194 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

THE LOST BABE. 

There was a bower that love had reared 

And beautified with care ; 
One day a messenger appeared 

And asked admission there. 

He was not welcome to the bower, 

For something in his face, 
Where'er he went, had always power 

To cloud the brightest place. 

Love barred the door, and cried, " Forbear, 

Thou art no bidden guest "; 
Then gathered up her jewels rare 

And hid them in her breast. 

Still louder knocked he than before, 

And still he was denied ; 
Then, laughing at the well-barred door, 

He threw it open wide. 

" I come from Paradise above," 

The messenger began : 
" Oh, not in anger but in love 

God worketh out his plan. 

" Sent from the King's eternal throne 
My mission to fulfill, 
I ask one jewel of thine own, — 
It is the Master's will : 

" One birdling from the parent nest, ' 
One lamb from out thy fold, 
To nestle in the Saviour's breast 
As did the babes of old. 



MISCELLANY. 195 

" How safe ! Her resting-place how sweet ! 
But thou wilt sadly miss 
The busy hands, the dancing feet, 
The prattle and the kiss. 

" There comes an hour, so long foretold 
That many deem it vain, 
When in his arms thou shalt behold 
That precious lamb again. 

" When earth and sea at God's command 
Their treasures shall restore 
Then thou shalt clasp this little hand, 
Nor dread a parting more." 

Love wept — her very bosom bled 

For that lost little one ; 
But Faith supported her and said, 

" The Master's will be done." 



THE DAY OF WRATH. 

" The great day of his wrath is come; and who shall be able to stand ?" 
— Rev. 6 : 17. 

The nations tremble, and the isles are moved ; 

All cheeks are gathering paleness ; lips are dumb 
That smiled in scorn but yesterday, or proved 

The day of wrath would not for ages come ; 
Each eye is fixed — there seems nor life nor breath ) 
In that vast human sea, — but ah ! it is not death. 

The morning broke in splendor, as it rose 

Upon the fated Cities of the Plain ; 
And men went forth refreshed from their repose, 

Where duty called them, or the love of gain ; 



196 CANADIAN WILD FLOWERS. 

When sudden as the lightning's vivid glare 

Like heated furnace glowed the earth, the sea, the air. 

From the Equator to the frozen Pole, 

All nations saw, and understood " the sign "; 

The seventh angel sounded ! like a scroll 
The heavens departed, and a Form divine 

And awful in its grandeur was revealed, — 

The sun and moon grew pale, and earth astounded 
reeled. 

Then rose a wail of anguish and despair — 
By men, by angels, never heard before ; 

The tones of earth and hell were mingled there, 
Henceforth to be thus mingled evermore 

Beyond the reach of Mercy's loving ear, 

Who wept and pleaded once — but will no longer hear. 

But hark ! in contrast what a shout of joy 
Goes up to heaven ; it tells of victory won 

O'er sin and death, o'er all that can destroy, — 
It tells of life eternal just begun, — 

Of bliss coeval with the endless years, — 

Of love that waited long for Him who now appears. 

My soul consider — 't is no idle flight 

Of fancy, when she pictures thus the day 

When sun and planets shall withdraw their light, 
And heaven and earth like smoke shall pass away ; 

God hath declared it, and our Saviour hath, 

And lo, it hastens fast — that dreadful day of wrath. 

Where wilt thou find a shelter from the storm ? 

Not wealth, nor power, nor friends can succor then ; 
How wilt thou gaze upon that glorious Form 

That seals the doom of angels and of men ? 



MISCELLANY. 197 

How wilt thou stand before the judgment seat 
And every idle word, and thought, and action meet ? 

Lamb of God whose blood was shed for me, — 
Redeemer, Saviour, Lover of mankind, — 

Spread over me thy robes; that I in Thee 

A shelter from that dreadful storm may find, — 

And calm amid the tumult and despair 

Look at the great white throne, and see my Surety 
there ! 



THE BELIEVER'S SAFETY, 

Ah, Christian, why is thy heart sad and thy brow 
clouded ? Hast thou been gazing down into the depths 
of thine own soul, and art thou startled at what thou 
hast there seen ? Hast thou met with evil thoughts 
which thou wouldst gladly never have harbored, and 
art thou despairing because of thy short-comings and 
unworthiness ? Art thou looking to the future with 
dread, and trembling lest in the hour of trial and 
temptation thou wilt fall ? 

Turn away thine eyes from the pollution of thine 
own sinful heart, and gaze upon One who has become 
a perfect sin-offering for thee. True, thou art frail 
and unworthy, but the Lamb that was slain is worthy, 
and his perfection is enough for thee ; his righteous- 
ness alone recommends thee to the Father. Dost 
thou trust in him with all thy heart ? Dost thou 
hope for eternal life because he died ? Then thou 
art safe. " The eternal God is thy refuge, and under- 



198 CANADIAN WILD FLOWEKS. 

neath thee are the everlasting arms." The storms 
may howl, and tempests may gather around thee ; the 
billows may rage, but they only lash the Rock upon 
which thou stanclest. " Though the earth be re- 
moved, and the mountains be cast into the midst of 
the sea," yet thou art safe, for he who made the heav- 
ens and the earth is thy Father. He who command- 
eth the sun, and it' riseth not, and sealeth up the 
stars ; " who alone spreadeth out the heavens and 
treadeth upon the waves of the sea," is thy nearest 
and dearest friend. The same voice which said, "Let 
there be light, and there was light ;" which com- 
manded the raging waters, "Hitherto shalt thou come, 
but no farther: and here shall thy proud waves be 
stayed," is still whispering in thine ear, "Fear thee 
not, for I am with thee ; be not dismayed, for I am 
thy God." Yes, thou art safe ! thou art trusting in 
the mighty One of Israel, and thou shalt never be con- 
founded. 

Thou hast been looking away into the regions of 
the blessed; thou hast beheld with an eye of faith 
the things which God has prepared for those that love 
him, and amid the ineffable glory of that beautiful 
world thou hast heard the voices of the redeemed 
from the earth, saying : " Salvation to our God which 
sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb," until 
thou hast longed to join with them in the song of re- 
demption, singing praises forever and ever to him who 
has ransomed thee with his own precious blood. 
Then a cloud has gathered over thee, thy sinfulness 



MISCELLANY. 199 

has risen like a mountain, and thou hast sighed in thy 
spirit, " Oh, that I were sure of a part with them ; 
oh, that I was safe as they ! " and thou art as safe 
this moment with thy feet upon the Rock of Ages, as 
if thou didst walk the golden streets of the New Je- 
rusalem, or bow with the angelic hosts around the 
dazzling throne of thy Creator. Thou art safe, for 
thy " life is hid with Christ in God "; and could'st 
thou ask for a surer hiding-place ! Thou hast entered 
into an everlasting covenant with the King of kings, 
and while thou dost cling to his side shall it ever be 
broken ? Thou hast entrusted thy soul into his 
hands, and is he not able to " keep that which thou 
hast committed unto him ? " Thine enemies are 
many and powerful, but what are they compared to 
the living God ? In the hour of temptation " he will 
never leave thee nor forsake thee "; when thy foes 
surround thee on every side, and the darkness of mid- 
night gathers over thy soul, the Almighty arm shall 
lift up a standard, and thoti shalt safely repose " un- 
der the shadoAv of his wings." "The Lord is thy 
rock, and thy fortress, and thy deliverer." " The 
Lord is thy light and thy salvation ; whom shalt thou 
fear ? The Lord is the strength of thy life, of whom 
shalt thou be afraid ? " 

Then look up, Christian ! 'tis no time for despond- 
ing. The glittering spires of the Eternal City are 
already heaving in sight ; perchance another storm, 
another beating against the fragile bark, and thou 
art there ! Already the music of that glorious land 



200 CANADIAN" WILT) FLOWERS. 

steals softly over the roaring billows, and reminds 
thee thou art nearing the peaceful shore. Already 
the dark cloud which gathers above thy head is 
tinged with the beams of immortal glory, and away 
in the distance thou canst behold the first faint glim- 
merings of the Morning Star. Joy for thee, wan- 
derer ! the shadows of the night are passing away, 
and the unclouded morning comes on apace ! 

Yes, thou art safe ! lift up thine eyes, 

And calm thy anxious fears ; 
The Sun of glory gilds the skies, 

And Christ thy life appears. 




^RY OF CONGRESS 





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